


Gilded

by HelloTragic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Duckling, Captain Hook/Milah - Freeform, Captain Wench, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-02 21:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 58,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15805368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloTragic/pseuds/HelloTragic
Summary: Once upon a time, a great prophecy was told. A child would be born of true love, capable of becoming the brightest of lights, freeing the world from evil, or to become the darkest creature the world had ever seen. Choices were made, destiny fought, but fate is a tricky thing. It’s often the path that we take to avoid it, that leads us straight to our demise.Enchanted Forest AU





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome aboard mates! This is the fic that would have been my CSBB but life and stuff got in the way of me finishing on time.

 

In the beginning, deities ruled the earth. Zeus, a God by his own right, overthrew the Gods of the time, the Titans, cementing his place as the all mighty ruler of the Heavens, proceeding over all of the other deities. His word held true and final and no one dared to cross him. Eventually, Zeus grew bored of commanding the other gods, needing more. In a bid to receive more praise and worship, he saw fit to create life, entrusting the task to Prometheus and Epimetheus.

 

Zeus should have taken more caution though, for it was dangerous to trust a deity known for his trickery. In fact, it was Prometheus, a Titan himself, who changed the fate of the war, allowing the Olympians to conquer the Titans. Prometheus had switched sides in the middle of the battle, unhappy that his fellow Titans preferred honor to victory.

 

As a reward for his help, Prometheus, along with Epimetheus, was spared the fate of the other Titans locked in a prison deep within the earth. As promised to Zeus, together, Prometheus and Epimetheus created not only animals, but mankind as well. Prometheus, taking pride in his work, grew to care for his humans more than he did for Zeus.

 

A dangerous thing indeed, for he placed that pride above the word of his king. When asked to make a sacrifice for the life that Zeus had allowed mankind, Prometheus tricked the mighty king, incurring the wrath of the heavens. As a punishment, Zeus took fire away from mankind, hoping they would starve and parish. But Prometheus thought himself more clever, stealing the fire back from the gods, returning it to his humans.

 

Zeus was enraged, and having a deception of his own in store for Prometheus, he gifted to mankind a woman. It was said that her beauty knew no limits, men fell before her in awe. Prometheus tried to warn man, but his words of caution fell on deaf ears. The tales said that her heart was born of evil though, and that all of her descendants would unleash torment on the world.

 

The woman’s name was Pandora. The plague of evil that her heart unleashed upon the world was nothing in comparison to the gift bestowed upon her by Zeus in secret; a box that came with strict instructions. The box was never to be opened. Zeus, having created Pandora knew that she would never be able to resist such a temptation.

 

Pandora opened the box, releasing The Seven Deadly Sins, but unbeknownst to her, she’d also subsequently released darkness itself. For a century, The Darkness reigned, taking advantage of men, weakening their hearts, empowering the deadly sins to consume their souls.

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until much later, centuries after Pandora’s death, that the box disintegrated, finally releasing from it's depths, Hope, who had remained trapped inside. No longer contaminated by the other evils as it once had been, Hope became a beacon of light, helping mankind to overcome. The battle was long and hard, but eventually, Hope was able drive The Darkness away.

 

The deadly sins persevered, but the balance between good and evil remained even with The Darkness gone. The Darkness hadn’t vanished though, not completely at least. No, instead it was simply held at bay, but it continued to search for a vessel. Realizing it’s previous mistake, The Darkness changed it’s tactic. Instead of trying to conquer all men at once, it would instead channel all of its energy into a single life force. A man strong enough to snuff out the light provided by Hope. 

 

From the desperation of The Darkness, the Dark One was created. Through the centuries, The Darkness shifted from man to man, always searching for the strongest vessel it could find. No man had ever had the ability to contain The Darkness fully though, and each one perished after being consumed by the power. The Darkness continued to search, until one day it felt something shift. 

 

Feeling a pull, The Darkness followed, allowing itself to be guided. What it found stunned The Darkness. In a bed layed a woman, her belly swollen with child. Surely this woman would never be strong enough to hold the power it wielded. The Darkness was sure, but as it tried to leave, it felt the pull once more. It wasn’t coming from the woman though, but from the unborn child within her.

 

Understanding at last, The Darkness blanketed the woman, feeling the raw power of the child. It was something more than The Darkness had ever felt in any of it’s previous hosts. But the child was still small, only just conceived. The vessel was still too small to house The Darkness fully.

 

Unwilling to rest until the child was fully grown, The Darkness made a choice, ripping itself in two. It channeled as much of itself into the child as possible, and what was left remaining continued to search for a new host.

 

It didn’t take long before The Darkness found a man, desperate to save his only child. He welcomed The Darkness, allowing his heart to become so black that he no longer cared for anything but his own happiness. 

 

For nine months, The Darkness waited, keeping control over the man, and keeping tabs on the unborn child. The man faired better than the other Dark Ones, only having a portion of The Darkness residing inside of him. And when the child was finally born, The Darkness felt a surge of power unlike anything before, and for the first time, The Darkness felt strong enough to destroy Hope, and the snuff out her light.

 

* * *

 

With evil now spreading, Zeus felt victorious, but the feeling wasn’t long lived. He saw that not all men so easily succumbed to the sins. Some remained moral and free from corruption, while others reveled in sin. In order to maximize the suffering of those who deserved it, and to reduce that of the men who remained good, Zeus bore three new daughters, each tasked with deciding the fate of men.

 

The daughters were names Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Once young and beautiful, just as their mother, the women were given tasks. Each man had a life line, a tie to his destiny. Clotho was to spin the yarn that would become each man’s life force. Her older sister Lachesis was given the job of measuring out the yarn of life, deciding the life span of each man. Finally, the oldest of the sisters, Atropos was tasked with cutting the line, thus ending each man’s life when the time had arrived. Her sheers never dulled, and her aim was always true. 

 

The chore of decided the fate of all men weighed heavily on the sisters, and their beauty quickly faded. The younger two sister became corrupted and jaded, feeling that many men were unworthy. Lachesis allowed men to suffer by extending their lives, and shortened those who prospered too much as the expense of others. It was only Atropos who remained untouched by her burden, never allowing herself to be swayed from her task.

 

And for as long as The Darkness remained, the sister worked away. Always the same: spin, measure, cut. Over and over for hundreds of thousands of men throughout time. The yarn spun by Clotho always perfect, free of any blemish. Always measured perfectly by Lachesis, and always severed in one cut by Atropos.

 

The sisters worked in tandem, never in error, until one day the sisters notice a line had become frayed. The sisters were all at a loss. Clotho rechecked her yarn, but the issue laid in the line itself. Lachesis tried to measure the line out, but it only became more frayed as she pulled on it. Finally the two sisters begged Atropos to cut the line, for what importance was one line in the grand scheme. 

 

Atropos refused though, stating that all life deserved equal measure. Instead, she suggested that Clotho reinforce it with another line, that of the life’s soulmate. Together, the two lines would be stronger, lasting until it was time to cut them both. When Lachesis returned with the soulmates line, Clotho interweaved the two as Atropos has commanded. 

 

But instead of strengthening the new line, the original life line rubbed against the frayed one, becoming frayed and gnarled itself. The lines separated where they had only just been intertwined. The sisters, all at a loss decided it was time to meet the life, hoping it may shed some light.

 

The sisters had visited others before, but only when they felt their destinies needed a push. They’d never before visited a child with such an unknown fate. In the darkness of night, covered in cloaks, the sisters descended from their place in the heavens, searching out the life in question.

 

Together they huddled in a hallway of a large castle, hiding from anyone who might see them. They waited until the parents of the child fell asleep, before slowly and quietly entering the room. When they approached the crib, they found a young girl wrapped in a white knit blanket. A pink embroidered name stretched across one of the corners.

 

The child was beautiful.

 

“She will be the most lovely creature to walk this earth,” said Clotho. 

 

She’d seen the girl’s beauty as she spun the yarn that created the child’s life.

 

“Yes, sister. But her life will be filled with nothing but suffering and loss.” Lachesis had felt the weight of the girl’s grief as she’d try to measure the life line.

 

“And she will die alone,” whispered Atropos, her grief for the young child apparent.

 

“This is not the way it was meant to be. I felt it when I first began to spin her line. She was meant for so much more,” cried the youngest sister.

 

“She is still meant for more, sister. But now she’s meant to bring about the end of the world. Is this what you see for her as well?”

 

Both sisters turned to Atropos, knowing that she could see more of the child’s future than either of them could.

 

“The future is uncertain. I see a final battle. The child will be at the center. Hope and The Darkness will fight for her soul. Whichever she picks, they will win the realm of mankind.”

 

A tear fell from Atropos onto the girl's blanket.

 

“What could have done this, sister? How did her path change so quickly?”

 

All three sisters look back to the child.

 

“Only a great source of evil could pull off such a thing. I know not what that evil is. Something clouds my vision, something stronger than anything mankind has ever faced.”

 

“So that’s it? There’s nothing that can be done?”

 

“I’m afraid that all we can do is wait, and watch. What I can see it that we have much work ahead of us. Many lives will be lost in this battle. Many before their time.”

 

“And the boy?” Clotho had seen the boy’s future three years before when she spun his line.

 

“His life has been altered as well. Their paths no longer joined as they once were. They will find each other again, of that I am certain. But I fear his life will not last long beyond that, depending on which path the child chooses.”

 

“No,” cried Lachesis. “There has to be something we can do. I can remeasure his life line. I can make it longer!”

 

Both sisters turned to her, unused to the middle sister’s compassion.

 

“You could, sister. But I’m afraid it would not matter. I have already foreseen his death, and when the time comes, I must cut his line. It is not our place to meddle in the lives of mortals.”

 

Unable to do anything more, the sisters knew it was time to return to their home. There were more lives that needed tending to. Before they left, Lachesis, who had always been the cruelest of the sisters, placed her hand on the child’s stomach. She leaned down and whispered into the child’s ear.

 

“You are stronger than you think little one. You can fight this. I believe in you, Emma.”

 

Just before she leaned back, the child opened her eyes and a flash of black filled the space where the green had just been.

 

The sister jumped back and gasped, realizing what had happened. 

 

_ The Darkness _ . It had clawed its way inside of the little girl. 

 

Clotho stepped forward.

 

“I fear the battle has already begun. Come, we have work to do.”

 

Begrudgingly, Lachesis stepped back to join her sisters. They returned to the heavens, knowing soon they’d need to begin rechecking the lives they’d already planned. Everything was different now.


	2. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna throw this out here because some people didn't pick it up from the summary. This fic is dark, super dark, as in the darkest thing I've written. If you know me, then you know I like my twists and turns, and that's why I've purposefully chosen not to use archive warnings. I don't want to give away parts of the story. But then again, if you know me, you know the way I end things...

 

‘Once upon a time.’ Those four words were at the beginning of every story her mother and father had ever told her. They were tales of heroes defeating dragons, trolls, and evil witches. They were tales of love and hope. They were the stories passed down from generation to generation, depicting how the heroes always defeated the villains, how love always conquered hate, and how good would always triumph over evil. And then, inevitably, the story would finish with the promise that the prince and princess lived happily ever after.

 

Perhaps that was why she easily became so smitten with him. He was gorgeous, with an easy smile that lit up the room, and his blue eyes could surely calm even the most vile of creatures. He lavished her daily with loving words in an accent that would cause every maiden in the kingdom to swoon. He was hers, and she knew that her love for him was fierce, perhaps even true. He would be her happy ending, and, by the night’s end, he would be her prince.

 

But in all of the fairy tales her mother told her, she’d missed an important part of the story. She’d missed the part where _not everyone_ got their happy ending.  _ Some _ only received the piercing agony of defeat and a life of desolation.

 

* * *

 

King James and Queen Snow White were known by all as kind and benevolent rulers, returning hope to the kingdom of Misthaven. For years beforehand, the lands had been plagued by marauders and black knights as the Evil Queen, Regina, had seized the throne. She’d claimed that Snow had committed treason, that the young woman was a traitor to the crown and enemy to the kingdom. Her accusations of banditry had forced Snow to abandon her people, to forage off the land as a peasant in disguise for survival. The fight for the throne had been long and hard fought, but with her true love by her side, Snow was eventually able to reclaim her rightful place as queen. The Evil Queen had been banished on that day, and with her departure, evil itself was driven from the lands.

 

It had been months since that fateful day, when Snow and Charming had watched Regina disappear in a puff of purple smoke. They were quick to assure the people that she’d never be back, that there was no need to worry, but deep down, Snow knew better. Regina’s heart had been filled with blackness, and such rage and hatred couldn’t be forgotten or pushed down so easily. Not forever. Certain that Regina would return one day, Snow collected together her most trusted confidants. They became her council, working in tandem to protect the land. New champions were knighted, lords were appointed, and new staff were thoroughly vetted, ensuring that none of Regina’s spies would be lurking in the castle grounds.

 

Despite those measures, Snow found herself awoken many nights in a nightmare driven panic. It had become nearly routine, as she became plagued with dreams of Regina returning to ruin her happiness. Charming was always there in an instant to take her in his arms and soothe her back to sleep. Night after night, month after month, the nightmares continued, and although nothing had been heard on the whereabouts or activities of Regina, the queen continued to worry. 

 

For his part, Charming had done everything he could to relieve her of her fright, assuring her that she was safe. No harm would come to her as long as he lived. He’d even tried broaching the subject of children on more than one occasion in attempt to draw her back to the present and begin planning for their future together. But each time, his wife ended the discussion before it could begin. How could she bring a child into the world when she felt that she couldn’t even protect herself or her people? How could she possibly protect a baby?

 

Although he remained silent and appeared to all to be content with his life, the king was crushed, for there was nothing more that he wanted in life than to have a family. Having lost his father, twin brother, and mother already, he knew the value of family. He wanted a daughter to dance with, a son to teach to sword-fight. But it wasn’t to be, and he’d never push Snow when he knew how terrified she was at the mere thought of children. They still made love, but took precautions to ensure they’d be protected. Potions and crystals. Anything that Snow could find.

 

Yet still, the nightmares came. Each night was the same; Regina stood in the very room where she slumbered, hovering over a crib. A dark curse was coming, the windows shattering and wind blowing through the room. But before Snow could get to the child, smoke filled the room, bells tolled, and everything was plunged into darkness just as she awoke.

 

It was after one such night of terror that Snow stirred to find her stomach tangled in knots and her brow damp with perspiration. That time the dream had felt so real. But as she looked around, everything was as it should have been, with the exception of an empty bed. Laying her hand out for Charming, she found the sheets already cooled. Shaking it off, as she had done so many times before, Snow dressed with the help of her maids and prepared for another day of council meetings.

 

Charming greeted her in one of the dining halls with her favorite spread. Pastries filled with chocolates and cinnamon, a rare and expensive treat. Charming had always gone so far out of his way to ensure her happiness, and it killed her to know that she’d never be able to give him the one thing he wanted most. Yet still, he greeted her with a smile that could melt even the most boorish of trolls.

 

They ate their breakfast, discussing the day’s schedule. The first thing on the agenda was opening the door to a few select villagers, those that had been appointed by their fellow tradesmen, farmers, and hunters to collectively make pleas to the royal couple. They usually asked for extra protection from wild animals attacking their herds, more lenient taxes on goods sold to other kingdoms, and other random musings. Nothing incredibly exciting, but necessary nonetheless. Next there was to be a council meeting to discuss strengthening their borders against rumors of King George strategically placing his army. While there hadn’t been any official announcement of attack, King George had been humiliated by his ‘son’ and the council knew that he’d be willing to risk war if he thought it might somehow bolster his standing and power.

 

The meeting was tense as always. Granny’s bow sat in her lap, the dwarves’ axes all rested against their chairs. Guards stood just inside the doors. There had never been an attack, but they’d have been foolish not to prepare. With all of the most powerful members from the kingdom held up in one room, they were always prepared for the possibility of an assault. 

 

Everyone was already on edge from talk of King George when the chamber doors burst open and a cloaked woman nearly fell to the floor as she pushed her way in. All that could be seen of her was flaming red hair as her face remained concealed.

 

“I’m sorry my Queen. She must have come in with the others this morning and stowed away. I’ll send her away now.”

 

The king and queen simply stared in surprise as the knight attempted to pull her from the floor.

 

“You’re in danger!” The woman cried, her raspy voice nearly an echo. “I’ve come to warn you of my vision.”

 

She sat straighter and lifted her hands upward towards the table where all of the council members were seated. Suddenly her cloak slipped and her face was finally exposed. The grotesqueness sent a wave of shock and gasps through the room. Her eyes had been crudely stitched shut, jagged lines of black edging across her brows. Her hands rose higher in the air, exposing the two blue eyes that peered out from her palms.

 

“She’s a monster!” cried Grumpy.

 

Charming pulled Snow closer to him, demanding the guards do something to remove her.

 

“I know the truth of you, Snow White. And you, David Nolan, Shepard turned king.”

 

The king turned to the queen. No one knew of his true identity except for his wife and the council members. It had been a tight kept secret that none of them would have exposed.

 

“How do you know that?” he demanded.

 

“I have seen it. I see everything.” Her voice rose in the most majestic squeals of ecstasy before falling into tortured cries. “You are with child, my Queen.”

 

Snow’s hands fell to her stomach.

 

“Impossible!”

 

“Yes, a life conceived on this day’s eve.” 

 

“That’s not possible,” growled David. “We’ve seen to it, taken precautions.”

 

“Even the most skilled of alchemists can make mistakes, Your Highness.” Her voice filled with delight as she continued. “The Queen Anne’s flower, for instance. The same one used in your wife’s potion. It can look very similar to cow’s parsnip.” 

 

Charming’s hand came around Snow’s waist, resting just above her own.

 

“And what have you seen?”

 

“You will bear the child in nine months. She will be beauty and grace. But know this. The child will be cursed. Her heart filled with blackness. A plague of death will follow and more than one will be lured to his death by her. The Evil Queen with return and a kingdom will fall.”

 

Finding her voice, Snow finally spoke.

 

“And what can we do to stop it?”

 

“Nothing, my queen. I have seen it, which means that it has already come to pass. She is the bringer of death, and the Darkness inside of her will snuff out all of the light.”

 

“There has to be something we can do! Anything!”

 

“You will do nothing but darken her soul. But when all is finished, it is true love that will be her her undoing. That will be the final push into the darkness.”

 

“That’s enough,” Charming shouted. “Get her out of here!”

 

Two guards approached, each lifting one arm until the seer’s feet no longer touched the ground. Together they pulled her from the room, but her haunting cries could still be heard from the hallway.

 

“ _ The Darkness is coming. Prepare your souls. _ ” 

 

With that, a wicked laugh burst forth and a new guard appeared and shut the doors, drowning out the noise.

 

“What do we do? We can’t let this creature ruin everything.”

 

“It’s a baby! Not a creature!”

 

“How do we even know the prophecy is true? What if she was lying?”

 

“What if she was sent by Regina?”

 

Everyone began speaking at once, trying to be heard over everyone else, but Snow just sat back in her chair, trying to make sense of everything. She wasn’t sure how long she remained that way, but when she came back to herself, everyone was watching her.

 

“Snow.” Charming’s voice was soft, and his eyes held such hope. “What do you want to do?”

 

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

 

“Is there a way to see if she was telling the truth?” She asked.

 

There was a pregnant pause.

 

“There’s a way,” Granny started, “maybe. It’s an old wives’ tale at best but it’s the best we’ve got.”

 

Everyone’s attention turned to the old woman.

 

“I heard about it when I was a babe myself, from my own grandmother. It won’t be easy, though. You’ll have to find a unicorn.”

 

Snow felt what small amount of hope she’d manage to regain slip. No one had seen a unicorn in years, not since before Regina came to power. There had been whispers that the Evil Queen had ordered them all to be executed, to prevent anyone from using their magic. It was, after all, light in the most purest of forms.

 

“There are still a few. Ruby has seen them on her excursions in the forest.” Snow looked at Ruby, and small smile on her face as she nodded. “There aren’t many, and they’re very skittish. But if you can locate one, if you can get close enough to touch it’s horn, you’ll find your answer.”

 

Snow and Charming looked at each other. Magic had become dark and twisted in their minds, both of them having seen first hand what it could do. What it had done to Regina. Their distrust for it was so great, in fact, that they’d once refused the blue fairy’s help, and yet it seemed that even now, they were fated to seek it out.

 

They left the next morning, ordering their horses to be prepared just before first light, hoping that if they could sneak off castle grounds in the shadow of daybreak, they could leave without raising suspicions. Following the directions Ruby had given them, the trekked deep into the trees, crossing the threshold into the Infinite Forest. It was a risk, to be certain, as many who had entered it had never been heard from again. There were tales of monsters that devoured men, of flowers with fragrances designed to ensnare their prey, of sirens that lured men to the depths of the lake. All designed to trap any who entered the forest’s boundaries. 

 

As they stepped into the vast undergrowth, they both paused to give each other a look that questioned if it was really necessary. Even if they retrieved an answer from the unicorn horn, could they do anything to prevent the fate that had been predicted for their child? Snow knew that if she was pregnant, she would have the child. While she’d been hesitant to conceive, there was no doubt in her mind that she would love it. And if the child was dark and evil, then there was little hope that anything she did could save the babe. So once more, she wondered if it was worth the risk to brave the Infinite Forest. But then she saw Charming’s face, the longing in his eyes, and knew that he needed answers. He needed to know.

 

They wandered for hours. The sun had long since set, or at least it had appeared to. Snow knew that the forest was known for playing tricks on the mind. She couldn’t be certain how long they had been there, and her hope was starting to dwindle. Even Charming was beginning to doubt that they’d ever succeed, but just as he went to open his mouth, they heard rustling. 

 

Bracing themselves for whatever was about to emerge, they stood together, sword and bow in hand. To their surprise, the creature that emerged was exactly what they had been looking for. Her fur and mane were as white as the snow that blanketed the castle grounds in the winter. The unicorn, obviously weary of their presence became skittish, hopping off of it’s front legs, backing back in the direction it came from.

 

Realizing that her bow was still drawn, Snow dropped it to the ground. Slowly, as not to further startle the unicorn, she reached into her satchel, pulling from it a green apple. She held it out in front of her, stretching her arm as far as possible. She smiled at the unicorn as it came closer, tentatively taking the apple from her hand. Gently, she allowed the same hand to brush along it’s neck, to show the unicorn that she meant it no harm.

 

Charming followed her lead, whispering reassurances to it, soothing his hand down it’s nose. Only after they were sure they had earned it’s trust did they finally move to touch it's horn. Pushing aside all reluctance, Snow's hand came around the base of the horn, and a bright white light flooded her vision.

 

As she looked around, she found that she was suddenly alone, the forest having been transformed in a moment.  Around her there was nothing but ash and death as far as the eye could see. The sound of a village crackling as it burned to the ground laid to the east filled her ears. To the other side, she saw villagers attempting to flee, only to turn to ash themselves, their cries a haunting melody against the wind. 

 

_ The child will be cursed. Her heart filled with blackness. A plague of death will follow… _

 

The seer’s prophecy, just as she had envisioned it, was before Snow’s feet. Everything she had foreseen would come to pass. And there was nothing Snow White could do.

 

There was a snap and Snow turned quickly to the source. Suddenly, she found herself before a figure in a black cloak, the face hidden behind a hood, just as the seer’s had been. Before she could react, a sudden sharp, burning pain filled her chest. She looked down to see a hand pulling something red and glowing from inside her. Her heart. The stabbing pain hit her once more as the hand tightened around the organ.

 

“Why?” She asked.

 

“Because,” started the figure. “I’m evil.”

 

Snow watched as the hood fell back, a woman’s stern face revealed. Her hair was stark white, but not with the elegant glow that she’d associated with the unicorn. No, this woman’s hair was dull, lifeless. Her eyes were a startling onyx, filled with nothing but the darkness of her soul. Her skin was pale, her veins just as solid black. There was nothing recognizable about the woman, and for a moment, Snow wondered who it was that held such a grievance toward her. But then she caught sight of her nose, and the slight dimple in her chin. She’d seen that face, or close enough to it each time she’d looked in the mirror. The woman before her, was her, or at least a part of her.

 

“I’m your mother?” The words left her lips on a whisper.

 

“You gave me life. Nothing more.”

 

The woman’s face contorted in pain, her hardened features softening just enough to allow a single tear to fall down her cheek and she squeezed Snow’s heart tighter. The last image she saw was of the ground, and the black embers falling from the woman’s fist.

 

She awoke from her vision on a gasp, still feeling the lingering agony of having her heart crushed. She was only soothed by the sound of her heart beating wildly in her ears, a reassurance that it remained intact. She looked to Charming just as he was coming out of his own vision, a smile upon his lips.

 

“Snow, she’s going to be beautiful.”

 

All the queen could do was breathe, trying to tamper down the frightening thoughts running amuck in her mind.

 

“It’s going to be okay. Sweetheart, she’s going to be perfect.”

 

“No!” Snow cried out. “David, she’s going to be a monster!”

 

With that, the kind smile faded and concern marred his face. He took her in his arms, holding her tightly until she was ready to speak. She explained to him everything she had seen in her vision. The pillaging, the smell of burning flesh, the horrifying sensation of having her heart crushed. 

 

Charming was still struggling to reconcile the two very different visions they had experienced. Trying to understand how a young girl full of so much life and purity could change so dramatically.

 

One thing was certain to Snow as Charming filled her in on the details of his own vision. His vision of the little girl with hair of gold and her mother’s eyes and spirit. A little girl with an infectious laugh that was melody to his ears.  


 

Just as the seer had told them, the darkness was coming.

 

When the day came, there were no bells that rang out, no offerings to the happy couple. The birth of the princess went unannounced, uncelebrated. Snow White had spent the last five months hiding behind the safety of the castle walls, behind closed doors, away from prying eyes. She stopped visiting the other kingdoms, sending ambassadors in her stead. She hid away, keeping her pregnancy a secret.

 

The only gift the child received was a lone knitted blanket from Granny. As far as most of the council was concerned, the princess’s birth was no reason to celebrate. They had already come to dread her, knowing what Snow had seen in the forest all of those months prior. Some had even objected to the child being born at all, insisting that Snow drink an elixir that would rid her of the evil inside her. 

 

That wasn’t an option. As much as Snow feared the baby growing inside her, there was a connection that couldn’t be severed. Ruby had suggested taking the baby far away, assured Snow that she would raise the child as her own. That the little one would never know of their heritage, or of the prophecy. Snow had agreed, hoping that if she sent the child away, she’d give it it’s best chance, but after nine grueling hours of labor, her eyes fell onto the child, and all plans of letting the little girl out of her sight were gone.

 

She sat up all night, rocking the little princess in her arms, seeing the pure innocence that the king had seen. She wondered if perhaps the unicorn had shown her the wrong future. How could anything so sweet turn into the beast she’d been warned of?

 

The longer she sat, clutching the small girl to her chest, the more she began to twist her thoughts in her mind. Then, as the girl’s eyes opened, Snow’s greens eyes reflected back on her tiny face, the lights began to flicker. The child’s first show of magic. And so, once more, the thoughts in Snow’s mind twisted and melded. Good and evil colliding in a gnarled tangle of roots.

 

Charming watched as his wife’s face fluttered in a cacophony of emotions. His wife was hurting during what should have been the most joyous moment of their lives. Snow’s fear of Regina ruining her happiness had been unfounded. Not when fate had intervened and decided their future for them.

 

“Snow, my love.” Snow was startled from her thoughts, her eyes filled with tears looked back at him. “You should rest.”

 

She shook her head.

 

“I can’t. What if Regina comes and does something to her? What if that’s the thing that turns her dark?”

 

He’d never seen his wife in such desperation. 

 

“Then I’ll be here watching over her. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

 

“My Prince Charming.”

 

Her nickname hadn’t held it’s usual playfulness.

 

Snow transferred the bundle into her husband’s arms, and watched as his face lifted with pure elation. She wished so badly that she could do the same.

 

As she crawled into her bed, alone for the first time in years, she cried silently. 

 


	3. 2

 

Killian Jones couldn’t remember a time without the sea. From his earliest memory there were images of Liam watching after him as their father piloted them across the sea. His mother had passed in childbirth, and with the loss of her, his father no longer found himself landbound.

 

Brennan had told the boys stories of how he had met their mother. In the stories, Brennan had been a pirate, pillaging and plundering vessels, until one day he stopped at a port and spotted a lass with flaming scarlet hair. The woman, a barrister's daughter, had beguiled him with her eyes. He swore that she was a siren that had lured him in and taken pity on his soul.

 

Her father, one of the island’s highest ranking members of parliament, deemed Brennan unworthy. His daughter had been born to receive more than a pirate could offer her, having been raised to be a doting wife fit for a nobleman with high future prospects. He’d forbade her to see the pirate, but her heart wouldn’t listen. She’d been young, younger than him by a few years at least, but he’d fallen for her madly, and on her eighteenth birthday, he snuck her aboard his ship in the middle of the night and they sailed away.

 

The barrister had been livid and had immediately put pressure on the governor to hunt for her. Once consumed by romantic notions of eloping and beginning a new life together on the open ocean, the young lovers quickly tired of looking over their shoulders and soon gave in to the safety of a secluded harbor. The pirate sold his precious ship and together they built a house on the sea. Not long after, they welcomed a beautiful baby boy named Liam Jones. Not wanting the boy to grow up alone, they set out to expand their family.

 

It took two more years before they had another son. Liam was only four when Killian was born, but he always swore he remembered the day exactly. The summer storm had brought with it ocean swells so high, Liam claimed, that they blocked out the sky and drowned out everything but the cries of their mother as she brought the youngest Jones into the world. The boys grew up there in that seaside cottage, listening to the waves at nighttime to lull them to sleep and waking to the smell of the brine in the air.

 

When the woman became pregnant again, it was by accident. Killian had been a difficult delivery, and the local village doctor had warned the couple that she ought not try for another. But it was too late, and four days before Killian’s third birthday, Alice Jones died, along with the child.

 

Brennan had become distraught at her passing, visiting the local bar more and more to drown his sorrows. He’d sleep the days away and his boys were left to fend for themselves. Liam, always the protective older brother would look after Killian, making sure he was fed, bathed, and loved. Even at the young age of seven, Liam Jones was more of a father to Killian than Brennan had ever been.

 

When Killian was four, Brennan packed the boys in the middle of the night and whisked them away, telling them that they were all heading on an adventure. What he’d failed to mention at the time was that his past had caught up with him. The so-called “pirate” he had claimed to be was nothing more than pure fiction, a cover for the fact that he had never been anything more than a simple smuggler, someone even pirates looked down on.

 

After a night of heavy drinking at the local pub, Brennan had exclaimed that he was the heir to his late wife’s fortune, a tale that had caught the ear of many a men, and stories had started to spread. They spread so far in fact, that the tales of Brennan Jones’s wealth eventually made their way back to the barrister. The barrister soon learned of his daughters passing, and in his bereavement, and thanks to a bequest of the governor, sent a ship from the Royal Navy to find the dirty old pirate to arrest him and force him to stand trial for his crimes.

 

Unwilling to face the consequences of his actions, Brennan ran, absconding with a small ship from the local port. The owners had been taking refuge in the local inn, a rare frivolity amongst sailors. The three of them, the pirate and his children, fled and sailed for weeks until they were sure they were out of the judicial realm of the barrister.

 

With no money to his name, Brennan was unable to provide food for his sons, much less a home. He taught the young boys how to steal and lift money from pockets of the unsuspecting villagers in whatever port they made refuge for the night. It had become a well practiced dance, Brennan spinning stories in distraction while Liam and Killian, so small they went unnoticed, threaded through the room picking pockets. And then, when finished, they’d meet back at the ship and steal away into the night once more.

 

It went that way for three years. The dance perfected. But the barrister was not a man to be trifled with, and each report of theft had been added to Brennan’s charges, along with the theft of the boat.  The barrister stewed in his anger, eventually allowing it to corrupt him. He convinced the governor and crown that Brennan was a traitor to his country. They put a bounty on his head, and soon word had traveled. Brennan knew it was only a matter of time before he was caught.

 

He’d woken in the middle of the night, terrified of the storm brewing around their ship. Even after three years on the sea, Killian still was still frightened of waves, and in the dark cramped space where he slept, all he felt was the power of mother nature around him. The wind howled causing the little boy to call out for his father.

 

“Father! Father!”

 

The pirate came down to console the young boy, laying him back down in his bunk. With a kind smile, the man lit a candle for the boy, and told him not to be afraid. He need only look inside himself for light and courage, he explained. Reassured, the boy proclaimed his affection for the pirate by telling him that he wanted to be just like him.

 

When the boy woke again, the candle had burned out, the room was dark, and the sea was still as glass. He called up to his brother in the bunk above his, but was only met with an annoyed grunt. The poor little one immediately knew something was wrong, he could feel it in his bones. He ran to the door, crying for his father once more, but upon opening it, he was met with a strange man. The man, and older gentleman dressed in black leather, informed the young boy that his father had left the brothers behind, used them as bargaining chips for a rowboat.

 

The two boys were led from the small ship onto a merchant vessel, placed in another small hold, and only released when the old man needed something cleaned, or a task done. For two weeks the young boys cooked his meals, scrubbed his decks, and tidied the lines. Eventually  they arrived at Port Royal, where the merchant had planned to trade his ales for a tidy profit. The old man saw value in the young boys too. At seven and eleven, they were still small, able to scurry around the netting, wedge themselves into smaller spaces on the ship that others couldn’t. Even when they came of age, he imagined that they would still be of use as strapping young lads.

 

Yes, the old man saw their value, and so he made sure to trade them to the highest bidder on the island.

 

Captain Silver was notorious for his pirating, but even more so for his ill temper and abhorrent treatment of his crewmen. He reveled in their torture for the sake of his amusement, preferring the cat ‘o nine tails to the leaner punishments, like extra duties. Liam took the brunt of his wrath, taking the blame for all of Killian’s errors, but in time, it wasn’t enough. Silver took pleasure in forcing the brothers to watch as the other was lashed.

 

To calm him, his older brother began teaching Killian about the night sky. He pointed out the north star, the brightest one in the sky, and told him all about how the star was magic, how it helped guide sailors and blessed them with fortune. He taught him the various constellations, and young Killian found that his favorite was the Cygnus.

 

According to the story told by his older brother, Cygnus, also known as the swan, was the eternal resting place of Orpheus. A healer and poet, who was said to be powerful enough to charm even the Gods with his music, Orpheus was so powerful and he was the only man known to have traveled to the underworld and return to the living. Orpheus had become disillusioned with all but one of the gods, though, and had pledged his allegiance to Apollo alone, who was the God of sun and light. Eventually, Orpheus was murdered for choosing to worship the light while forsaking the others. As a reward for his loyalty though, Apollo transformed Orpheus into a swan, placing him in the night sky where here could bring light to others, even in the darkest of times.

 

Young Killian remained a deckhand, scrubbing the endless amount of blood that was spilled night after night as Silver’s men fought with other pirates. Nothing delighted Silver more than slitting the throats of naval officers. The evening of the raids, Liam became a valuable member of the crew, manning the ship in the absence of the other pirates as they boarded other vessels.

 

For years, Liam and Killian squirreled away their pitiful wages, hoping to buy their freedom from the captain. Often, Silver would dock their wages for no reason, and then goad them into asking why. The brothers had learned though, there was no use in challenging the man, for it would only result in further punishment and lost wages.

 

It wasn’t until six years after they been sold into Silver’s service that Liam had received the last piece of silver needed to purchase their papers. He’d intended to free them both before they left port again, letting them start their lives fresh in a place where no one would know of their past. Just as he was on his way to hand over the papers to their captain, Liam found himself on the deck of the ship, purchase in hand, to find his now thirteen year old brother passed out over a barrel of rum, the ship’s crew laughing around him.

 

Liam rushed to Killian, shaking him awake. The boy smelled of alcohol, and could barely keep his eyes open. As Liam tried to pull Killian to his feet, it was too much for the young boy, and the contents of his stomach spilled forth onto the deck. Still, the elder brother was determined, and lifted the boy over his shoulder, presenting Silver with the bag of money.

 

Silver laughed in his face; the money in his hand wasn’t nearly enough, he exclaimed with glee. Stunned, Liam grabbed the bag from the pirate, looking inside only to find much of it missing. As the crew continued to laugh, Silver explained to Liam how the younger Jones brother had become drunk and belligerent, wagering his earnings in a game of dice, a game in which Killian’s luck and skill fell short of Silver’s dice.

 

Everything Liam had worked so hard for had been lost, and he knew that it would take years to earn back the money. Resigned to his fate, Liam took Killian back to his cot and proceeded to clean up the mess Killian had made, taking a swift kick to the ribs as he worked. In that moment, Liam Jones wished upon the north star. He wished for Silver’s death.

 

The wish was fulfilled, but not for another two years. In that time, Liam and Killian worked harder than ever before, receiving less pay and less food than usual. It was Silver’s own brand of punishment for trying to buy their way off his ship.

 

Then one night, the star twinkled high in the night sky as the two brothers worked. Liam was the first to notice the slight rise in waves, the way the clouds were beginning to form above them. Eventually the north star became nothing but a distant memory as the heavens above opened and unleashed their wrath. The ship swayed as Captain Silver ordered the men to continue into the storm.

 

It wasn’t just a storm though, and while Killian couldn’t quite place exactly what they were heading into, Liam understood. Silver was heading straight into the eye of the storm, seeking a rare and elusive gem. Very few sailors dared go after it, and even fewer survived.

 

The ship tossed and turned, until it finally buckled. Killian could hear the wood beneath his feet cracking, giving way to the power of the sea. The ship began to sink, and Killian feared the worst. Memories of being a scared child filled his head and Killian froze, waiting to be welcomed by her warm depths.

 

Beyond that, the tale went hazy. Killian wasn’t sure how he and Liam had survived. Yes, he’d made one last plea, a whisper from his lips to the north star to spare him and his brother. He wasn’t fool enough to believe it though. Yet Liam always remained adamant that it was his wish that spared them when all of the other crew members had been lost at sea. He even went as far as attributing the star to the fortune that had been bestowed on him that evening, just as the stories had said. For the brothers Jones had not only escaped with their lives that night, but had also found themselves in possession of a very rare jewel of untold fortunes.

 

Still being the young and naive boy of fifteen, Killian wanted nothing more than to sell the stone and collect a pretty bounty for it, hoping to travel and purchase items he’d only dreamed about up unto that point. Liam, being wiser, understood the true value of the the gem. Why buy a few meager fleeting possessions when you could have the world at your feet?

 

So against Killian’s materialistic desires, Liam traded the stone not for money, but for their future, buying both of their ways into the Royal Navy. With his age, Liam was able to immediately accept the commission on a ship, but Killian was still too young. Instead, the younger Jones brother was enrolled into the academy, where he learned to read foreign languages as well as proper etiquette. But most importantly, it was where he learned discipline and the importance of good form.

 

When he was ready, he joined his brother, once more working side by side sailing on the high seas. This time the Captain was kind and fair, and under his direction, the brothers thrived, climbing the ranks. As a lieutenant, Liam was always at the Captain’s side, even on diplomatic missions. Liam would always return telling the most enchanting of tales about other naval ships, castles, and even queens and kings. There was only ever one time that Liam returned refusing to tell Killian of what had transpired in in absence. Killian had understood though. Tensions with Misthaven had been high, and their mission there had been one of great importance in negotiating peace with the war baring kingdom. When Liam declared that he was under instructions not to speak of his journey, Killian aptly assumed he was under orders from their king and captain, and left it at that.

 

Eventually, Liam Jones even made Captain himself, taking on the pride and joy of King George’s Navy. He also brought along his favorite first mate for the maiden voyage, a mission of the utmost importance. Talks with Misthaven had deteriorated, and the two kingdoms where on the brink of war.

 

King George, however, had discovered the key to victory. Dreamshade. A plant that was said to have eminence healing powers. One drop from the stem could save a hundred lives. Liam and Killian both took on the mission with their full dedication. The ship was in perfect order, and when the last detail was revealed, a pegasus sail, they set off on their journey, flying towards the second star to the right and straight on til morning.

 

It was an odd sensation, sailing through the sky instead of water. While Liam was thrilled, Killian was more hesitant, preferring the familiar. The sea could be a traitorous mistress, but Killian understood it, knew what to expect from it. But something about the air, about the entire mission had Killian on edge. A strange feeling of dread creept into his body.

 

They didn’t hit water until they were almost to Neverland, but even then, the air surrounding the island was already sticky and sour. Something wasn’t right, and as they made landfall, Killian begged Liam to stay behind, to let him brave the mission alone. But Liam was stubborn, and refused, sealing his fate.

 

There had been a boy of not more than seventeen, who appeared on the beach as they rowed close to shore. He warned the men of the true use of the dreamshade plant, cautioned that it was a powerful poison that would dispose of thousands of soldiers. But Liam, choosing to believe in the honor of his king, brushed him off. Killian was not so certain, and so Liam stubbornly decided to slit his forearm on one of the plant’s thorns, determined to prove to Killian that the native boy had been lying.

 

But he hadn’t been lying, and while the boy _had_ disappeared, the true nature of the plant _hadn’t_ vanished, and Liam fell to the ground, crying in agony as he died before his brother’s eyes. Killian held him in his arms, pleading with him to stay, to live, but his prayers went unanswered, for the north star had no power in Neverland.

 

The journey back was difficult. Killian had refused to leave Liam’s body behind, carrying the limp body of his brother and captain back to the ship. The men wrapped him in burlap, hiding him away below deck until they could honor him properly back in the realm from whence they came. They’d barely made it back to their own seas when the mutiny began. Saying goodbye, watching _him_ sink, watching _him_ fall away had made it all real. It made it too much for the young lieutenant to bear.

 

The uniforms were the first to go. The men sailed to Port Royal, where the start of the Jones’ troubles had begun. From Killian’s memories, the island was overwrought with lawless pirates, the monarchy long overthrown, taking anything and everything they wanted for themselves and leaving nothing behind for others. The men of the newly christened Jolly Roger traded the old uniforms for new leathers, not caring what misdeeds would be done with their beloved precious white linens. That was someone else’s issue now. Killian secretly hoped they would be used in less than savory ways.

 

_Let the world know the cruelty of the crown._

 

 


	4. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just as a trigger warning, there is brief mention of attempted rape in this chapter. Nothing happens, it's stopped before it can really start, but if that's too upsetting, I've separated that part with ***** so feel free to skip.

 

Emma had spent most of her life tucked away from the world. Her mother and father had harped on her time and time again about the importance of discretion. As a child, she hadn’t really understood it, her small mind too young to comprehend the delicate nature of her situation. Too young to understand the danger that lurked around every corner.

 

She’d heard the council members whispering in the hallways, her name spat out in contempt, but she never knew of what they spoke. As soon as she’d get close enough to hear them, silence would overtake the halls.

 

Sometimes from her window, she’d spy other children playing, but had no friends herself. The only people that even spoke to her apart from her mother and father were her Aunt Ruby and Granny. The old woman would come in at night time while her parents were away and read her bedtime stories until she fell asleep.

 

When Snow and Charming weren’t off trying to settle treaties and trades with other kingdoms, they would come into her room each night and snuggle in beside her in bed. They wouldn’t read to her they way Granny did. Their stories came from memories, from the heart. Tales of a Evil Queen chasing after a princess. Tales of a shepherd defeating a dragon to become a prince. The princess and the shepherd prince always found each other, and together, they defeated the evil queen. She’d always fallen asleep not long after, dreaming of the day when she would find her own prince.

 

The princess was lonely, though, and one night she made a wish on the brightest star in the night sky. She wished for a friend, for anyone to keep her company and make her time a little more bearable. It was on that very night that her first friend appeared.

 

The small blue light that fluttered through her window quickly transformed into a beautiful woman. Her dress resembled something Snow White would wear in its grandeur.

 

“Hello, Emma.” The woman smiled. “I heard your wish.”

 

“Who are you?” asked the Princess.

 

The woman was light herself. Her dark curly hair pinned up, her brown eyes falling upon the girl.

 

“You can call me Blue. I’m your fairy godmother.”

 

Emma gasped, having heard of such things from Granny. In one tale, a fairy godmother had helped a woman name Cinderella sneak into a ball where she had fallen in love with a prince.

 

“Are you going to help me find my prince?” Asked the princess, nearly bouncing out of her slippers.

 

The fairly giggled.

 

“Not yet Emma. You’re still too young for such things. But I can help you with something else.”

 

The fairy smiled down on the girl and knelt so that they were the same height.

 

“With what?”

 

“Emma, you have magic.”

 

The princess was stunned.

 

“But, I-”

 

“Yes, it’s true. You were born with it. I can help you learn to use it if you’d like?”

 

Emma nodded her head, excited at the prospect of performing magic tricks.

 

“Yes! Yes. Please!”

 

The fairy laughed once again, before growing more somber.

 

“First, though, you should know that many people are afraid of those with magic. They fear us, and that can lead them to do dark, unspeakable things. Do you understand me, Emma?”

 

The little girl nodded, not completely sure, but fearful that if she asked any questions the fairy would disappear, taking her knowledge with her.

 

“Little one, you must understand how imperative it is that you tell no one of this. Not even your parents.”

 

Emma face fell, not accustomed to keeping secrets from Snow and Charming.

 

“Your mother and father love you very much, Emma, but they don’t understand magic. They only know of how it...,” the fairy paused, nearly gritting out the words, “corrupted Regina. Her magic was dark, and your parents are worried that having magic makes you evil.”

 

“So, am I?

 

“Are you what, child?”

 

“Evil. I have magic.”

 

“No,” the fairly smiled back. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Not all magic is bad. But people will jump to conclusions, so it’s best that we keep this just between us. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes.”

 

And with that, Emma and her fairy godmother began their weekly lessons. Blue came to her at night, when the brightest star was at its highest, teaching her all sorts of magic. They started with small things, focusing on discipline and controlling her emotions. Emma noted that her magic was particularly strong when she was angry at Blue for pushing her too hard. As Emma grew into a young woman, they turned to more difficult tasks like spell books and reading ancient ruins.

 

Emma’s powers grew, and the fairy seemed very pleased with her progress. She could move objects across her room, light the fireplace from the comfort of her own bed and could immobilized small animals. And, as promised, Emma kept her lessons with Blue a secret from everyone else.

 

Until her fifteenth birthday, when she accidently slipped. It wasn’t a conscious decision. She hadn’t meant to use magic, to expose herself to anyone. But as her father was trotting a horse around just aside the castle stables, it became spooked, and started neighing and bucking angrily. Rearing up on its hind legs, Emma watched in horror as he father was thrown. Just as he was about to hit the ground, Emma reached her arms forward on instinct and stopped him. His body remained suspended in midair as, slowly, the princess dropped her hands, allowing the king to float down gently to the stable floor.

 

The look on his face, on everyone's faces, was something she’d never forget. Abject terror. It was just as the fairy had warned her. Snow grabbed her hands and pulled her back inside until they were in Emma’s chambers, her father close behind.

 

“Emma-”

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” Emma cried, cutting her mother off.

 

“How did you do that?” Asked her father.

 

Emma opened her mouth, the answer on the tip of her tongue, but then she thought better. The fairy had always emphasised how fearful of magic people were, and Emma knew that if they learned of what she’d been taught, they’d never look at her the same.

 

“I don’t know. It just... happened.”

 

There were tears in her eyes. Genuine ones, mixed from the fear of nearly losing her father and of her parents finding out that she had magic. But her father didn’t yell as she had expected. Instead he took her into his arms and whispered in her ear.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Emma. We’re going to fix this.”

 

She’d been so grateful that he father still loved her that she hadn’t considered his words. She’d missed the insinuation that there was something wrong with her.

 

The next week, Emma appeared before the council for the first time, at her mother’s side. Each member was silent as first, but as Snow began to explain the events that had unfolded in the stables, their voices grew heated.

 

“She needs to be dealt with.”

 

“She shouldn’t even be here.”

 

Emma could do nothing but look down at her hands. She’d ruined everything.

 

The blue fairy had abandoned her after learning what she had done, telling her she couldn’t teach her anymore. Her mother had barely spoken to her, and everyone stayed clear of her in the hallways. The maids left her food trays outside her room, too scared to come face to face with her. And her parents’ closest confidants wished she’d never been born.

 

Without asking permission to be excused, Emma ran from the room. She’d moved without thinking, without having a plan, until she stumbled into the library, and straight into the body of a man she’d never met before.

 

Terrified, Emma tried to retreat. She was already in enough trouble without having been seen as well. But the man reached out, grabbing her elbow with only enough force to steady her.

 

“Whoa there, lass.” His accent was something different, unknown to her ear, yet soothing. “Now, what has you so vexed and let’s see if we can fix it.”

 

When she looked up, she the first thing she noticed was his blue eyes, darker that the sky, but not as dark as a sapphire. If she had to compare them to something, she thought they most closely resembled the ocean from the paintings in her father’s study. His hair was in light curls, hidden away under a naval hat.

 

“Emma!”

 

Her mother’s admonished voice did nothing to ease her fears.

 

“I’m so sorry mother. I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

 

And just as before, Emma ran, this time to her room where she slipped inside, hearing only the briefest of exchanges between her mother and the man as she had fled from.

 

_Please, I would hope for your discretion in this matter, Lieutenant Jones._

 

It was nightfall before either of her parents entered her room. Emma had stayed hidden away the rest of the day, afraid that everything around her was crumbling, that it was all her fault. Her parents hadn’t been as forgiving as before. Snow had made her disappointment quite well known, and Charming had stayed nearly silent. They’d worried that the naval officer, a man delivering treaty terms from King George, would report back of the princess’ existence. Snow had almost thrown him in the dungeon to protect Emma, but the queen knew that the sudden disappearance of a senior naval officer would only draw more attention to them.

 

The lieutenant had promised not to tell anyone of the young princess’ existence, but as they only had the word of a man employed by a tyrant, they once again prepared for the worst. Emma was sequestered to her room during the days, only allowed to leave the confines for dinner with her parents. Granny and Ruby no longer came to visit her, and she’d never felt more alone.

 

She understood it, but she was certain that she would go mad if she was never allowed to breathe in fresh air again, to bask in the glow of the sun. So although she knew better, the young princess broke her promise to her parents once again, thinking that one small excursion couldn’t possibly hurt. She’d be back long before anyone would ever think to come and check on her for dinner.

 

Summoning her magic, Emma thought of a meadow she’d seen in a drawing. She knew it wasn’t too far outside of the castle walls, and should therefore be safe. No one would even see her.

 

And as her mind focused on that meadow, she felt her body become light as air. When she opened her eyes, she was there, standing amongst the tall grass she had pictured. She wandered for a bit, finally coming upon a tree. She sat at the base, under the safety and shade of its branches, imagining a life she would never have. The life of a regular girl, one from Granny’s old books. As the sun began to fall, she closed her eyes, thinking of her room, finding herself back in the safety of her stone walls.

 

Once turned into twice, and soon the princess found herself in the meadow at least once a week, always alone. She began bringing books with her to read. Books from the library, similar to the ones Granny had read her, but more grown up, more mature.

 

Two years passed in much the same way. Two years of Emma longing for the companionship found in the books. Longing for a man to kiss her and touch her as the men in the books did to the women they loved. Two years wondering if she’d ever find someone to love her.

 

 *************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

They had met by fate. She had been wandering alone in the forest outside her parents’ kingdom, having snuck out with the guards none the wiser, just as she always did, although exploring deeper than ever before. The forest was a maze, and after one turn too many, she’d become hopelessly lost. That’s when she’d heard a commotion and followed the noise in hopes that someone could help show her the way out. When she’d rounded the corner, she’d come face to face with a man who reeked of ale.

 

She hadn’t had many occasions to come across drunken fools in the safety of her parents’ castle. When his eyes caught her, and turned almost feral, she was stunned. Her father had taught her to fight, and she was second only to him in swordplay, but this man was huge. Even if she had a weapon, she was too caught off guard to defend herself, and too outmatched by his size. The man took her in and she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered as they moved down her body. He licked his lips as he watched her and his mouth curved up into a greedy smile.

 

“Well, what have we here? A fair maiden in distress?” His words filled her stomach with knots.

 

“No, I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. Thank you,” she replied.

 

She tried to move past him quickly, but as she did, he grabbed her elbow and tugged her back in front of him.

 

“Now, what kind of gentleman would I be if I left a lady in need when she comes to me so willingly?” He licked his lips again.

 

And that’s when he lunged for her. His mouth came down on her hard, unwillingly taking from her her first kiss. She tried to pull her head back but he was too powerful. His arms wrapped around her body holding her close enough that she felt as though she might suffocate.  Before she knew it, his mouth was traveling down her neck, blocking out the sting of the tree bark pressing into her back. She screamed out as loudly as she could, hoping that someone would hear her.

 

The man’s mouth continued downward and she began to feel a tugging at the shoulder of her dress. Panic overwhelmed her body as she felt every muscle in her go tense. His breath on her was hot and vile. With every fiber of her being she willed herself to think about anything else. Her emotions were too overwhelmed that she couldn’t even pull forth her magic. Perhaps if she could distract herself, it would be easier somehow. She didn’t want to think about how this man had his hand traveling up her thigh trying to push her dress up along with it.

 

She closed her eyes and thought of one of her mother’s stories. She thought of the princes and princesses, and of their happy endings. She couldn’t remember anything about them being molested in this way. Did her parents leave those parts out so that she wouldn’t be frightened? This wasn’t that way it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to meet her own prince charming and ride off into the sunset with him.

 

Gone were the lighthearted fairy tales she had once indulged in. She knew better now.

 

Her thoughts were brought back to this horrible man who was violating her. She was ready to fight. It may not do her any good, but she wouldn’t let him have her that easily. She opened her eyes ready to kick and scream, to bite his filthy flesh, to do anything she could to force him off of her. That’s when she realized she couldn’t feel his breath against her skin any longer. His hands had stopped traveling along her body.  His gaze had sobered and was focusing down at his stomach.

 

Her eyes traveled down to where his bloodshot gaze was fixed low in front of him. His tattered top filled with a bright red color and she could see just a hint of metal poking through. He gasped and grabbed his stomach as the metal was wrenched back from the other side. His body crumpled to the ground and his eyes went still.

 

She looked up to find him. His eyes were kind as they traveled up and down. Unlike the hungry eyes of her attacker, this man’s eyes were filled with caution and concern. In his right hand he held a blade covered in blood.

 

He stepped towards her but kept his hands to himself, held aloft in a placating manner.

 

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” He asked quietly.

 

Her body was trembling and she felt her legs giving out on her. She started to fall but before she could hit the ground he was there, catching her. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her out of the maze back and towards to castle. She watched him though a tear filled blur.  When they arrived back at the front gate, her parents were waiting for her. They had grown alarmed when she hadn’t answered her door that afternoon. No one had seen her.

 

 *************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

The man immediately handed her over to her father’s arms. Her father set her down and her mother instantly enveloped her, clutching her daughter to her chest. When her mother finally released her from her hold, and her father was finally able to survey her properly, the king finally noticed that her gown had been torn at the shoulder. His eyes filled with rage and he drew his weapon on the outsider.

 

“Give me one reason that I shouldn’t run you through with my sword right here,” her father demanded.

 

The man looked back at him with wide eyes in shock. Realizing how the situation looked, and that the father assumed he was at fault, he tried to speak up. But before he could manage a word out, guards swarmed him.

 

“Father! No!” The princess cried out, but her father’s rage had overtaken him.

 

“Emma, go inside. NOW!” Her mother’s arms wrapped around her again, trying to pull her away toward the castle, but she broke free.

 

“Father, please. He didn’t do anything. He saved me!” Her voice was beginning to break and tears were streaming down her face.

 

Her father snapped his eyes toward her, trying to make sense of her words. When he looked back at the blue-eyed man, he saw something in his expression, something strong enough to give him pause.

 

“Is this true?”

 

“Yes your highness. I was in the woods hunting, when I heard her scream. I found her pinned under a man. She was too shaken to walk back so I carried her here.”

 

The queen tugged on Emma’s shoulders once more, obviously displeased at her daughters behavior, but Emma refused to budge until she knew that her father wouldn’t kill him for her mistake. That her rescuer was safe.

 

She heard her father grumble before motioning to the man to join them.

 

If felt like ages, as her parents continued to question the young man. Emma was reminded of what her mother had said of the lieutenant from years before, of how her actions had almost gotten him arrested. A knot formed in her stomach at the grim memory as the interrogation continued.

 

They asked him if he had a family, to which he replied no. They had all been killed in one way or another, he explained. It had been an innocent enough question, but Emma knew what her parents were really asking; _is anyone going to come looking for you_? There was no one. This blue eyed man, with the same odd accent as the man who had been interrogated before him, was just as alone in the world as she was. Emma felt for him.

 

Her parents must have felt for him as well, granting him leniency as they struck an accord. He wouldn’t be thrown in the dungeons, but he would be imprisoned in the castle. Unlike the lieutenant, this man had no title that bound him to anything, and it would be easy to snatch him from the world and keep him hidden behind the stone walls of the castle. Just as they had done with their own princess. They weren't willing to consider his promises of silence, but her parents weren’t callous either.

 

As the months went on, she and the blue eyed man came to be friends, reading side by side in her room, exchanging stories. Well, mostly, as it often was more the case that Emma sat and listened to his stories, as she’d only rarely ventured outside the meadow. She’d learned that his mother and father had died under the Evil Queen’s reign, that he once had a brother who had passed away at the dagger of another man while trying to help someone. She knew that his eyes lit up when she laughed, that his hands were warm when wrapped around her own. She learned that his kindness knew no bounds.

 

And eventually she’d come to know that she loved him. The realization hit her as they shared their first kiss on his balcony one evening. The bright star hidden away that night from their view, no wishes made. Just him, as he leaned forward, delicately brushing his lips against hers, giving her a promise of forever.

 

The next day, Emma accompanied her lover as he met with her parents, asking for her hand in marriage. The king and queen looked stricken by the request, and Emma had been certain they’d decline. She could hear her parents arguing all the way from their room for most of the night, and at breakfast, they were both unusually quiet, sitting slightly further apart than usual.

 

It was another three days before Emma and her companion received an answer, before Charming gave his approval, followed by Snow, albeit, a little unwillingly.

 

It wasn’t a long engagement. There wouldn’t be an elaborate ceremony or a ball afterwards. There was no need for invitations or formal meal planning. The hall wasn’t even decorated with flowers. Aside from the new dress, there was nothing to commemorate the event.

 

The only guests they had in attendance were her parents and their council. Only the first two rows of pews were filled in the castle chapel. It wasn’t what Emma had imagined, nothing like in her books. The only solace was that she was getting a chance with the love of her life.

 

_He would be her happy ending, and, by the night’s end, he would be her prince._

 

The white gown was heavier than anything she’d ever worn before, and she struggled not to fall under its weight as her father escorted her down the aisle. Her mother’s face held a smile, but her eyes lacked any sparkle. But it was okay, because her prince was there, and while nothing else measured up to her expectations, he did.

 

And so they recited their vows before the council, until the priest granted them permission to seal their union with a kiss. But as Emma leaned forward to meet him, just as her lips brushed his, he pulled back, gasping for air and clawing at his throat.

 

Everyone in the room gasped, and he looked at her, his eyes less brilliant as they bulged in alarm.

 

“What did you do, Emma. _What did you do_?”

 

And as his body hit the ground, she screamed. She fell to the floor next to him, grabbing his lifeless body and cradling his head in her lap.

 

“No!” Her words drowned out by her sobs.

 

It was her father who finally grabbed her, forcing her up and pulling her from her love. She tried to fight, to stop him, to stay, but her father dragged her away.

 

“No,” she cried out. “Graham!”

 

The princess wept, clinging to her pillow. Her love was gone and it was her fault. She was the monster everyone thought her to be. She waited, waited for the council members to decide her fate, for the villagers to come brandishing their pitchforks. She waited, and waited. And eventually she fell asleep, still crying for Graham.

 

It was dark when she was startled awake, shaken roughly with a hand across her mouth. There was a single candle attempting to illuminate the room. Slowly, her eyes adapted and she saw her father standing above her. He released his hand and she sat up, still confused.

 

“What’s happening?”

 

For only a moment, she’d forgotten the events of the day. She’d forgotten that Graham was gone, that she’d murdered him. But it was only a moment, and then it all came rushing back. The council had made their decision, and Emma’s life would be forever irrevocably altered.

 

“Emma,” her mother said from beside her. “You have be charged with murder and treason to the crown.”

 

Snow’s voice fell off, and she looked away, unable to finish. Emma knew that her mother was disgusted by her.

 

It was Charming’s voice, however, that delivered her fate.

 

“You have been found guilty of the crimes. The punishment for your actions,” he paused, his face sharp, devoid of all emotion, “is banishment from this kingdom immediately. You are to be stripped of your title, bearing no rights to the throne. You will leave tonight and never return. You are an enemy of the crown and of Misthaven.”

 

Emma stood, trying to comprehend the depths of her father’s words. It had been the last thing she’d expected, so far away from the dungeon prison she’d prepared herself for. But this was worse. She was being cut off from everything, her family, her home, for the life she’d come to know over the last eighteen years.

 

“Father, surely you can’t-”

 

“If you ever return, you face death by hanging.” David’s voice was full of contempt. “Do you understand?”

 

Emma teared up, nodding in affirmation.

 

“Then go, now. Go far from here and never return.”

 

Not even bothering to collect any of her belongings, Emma vanished in a swirl of light grey smoke. She went as far as her magic would take her. She wasn’t sure if she was still in her parents kingdom or not, but her magic had been drained.

 

Looking around, she realised just how serious her situation was. She had no money, no belongings, and no friends. She began walking, her delicate feet bruising on the rough terrain. She walked until they felt raw, finding herself as the edge of water.

 

There were large ships all around, with grand sails and flying the colors of her parents’ kingdom. She’d made it to the edge of the kingdom, yet it was not far enough. She tried to barter her way onto one of the ships, but with no money and nothing to trade, they simply laughed in her face.

 

Finally she gave up, mustering the very last of her magic to sneak into the food storage of one of the vessels. She didn’t know where she was going, but as long as it was away from Misthaven, it wouldn’t matter. As she hid away, she felt her magic regenerating just under her skin, and on that night, something in her shifted. She allowed the buzzing of it take her over, and after years of trying to hold her powers at bay, she gave in.

 


	5. 4

 

From Port Royal, they sailed west, taking on every ship that flew the king’s flag. They left no man standing and took what they wanted. Within months, their names had spread through the realms. Killian Jones of the Jolly Roger, the most fearsome pirate that ever lived.

 

When they made port to restock, Killian allowed his reputation to precede him. The woman were easily won over by his face and power. His men, less fortunate in appeal, were often left to use their gold to buy a lady for the evening.

 

As the reputation of the Jolly Roger grew, so did the line of men waiting to challenge their leader. Most men found themselves at the mercy of his sword. Mercy, he called it, because some were less fortunate, dying more gruesome deaths. Even fewer still were the men that survived their encounters, thanks to wit or luck. One such man by the name of Blackbeard, had escaped Killian’s grasps twice by playing dirty. Killian had since vowed to himself that it wouldn’t happen a third time.

 

It was in Saint Helena’s Port, three years into piracy, that Killian first met _her._ He’d watched from the next table over as a man had spilled his drink on her and then become far to at ease with his hands. The woman, a meek brunette, had tried to block the man’s advances, but it wasn’t until Killian knocked him out cold with a single blow that the poor woman was able to collect herself.

 

All it took was one glance into her brilliant blue eyes and Killian was smitten. He and the woman spent the rest of the evening talking. She was enraptured by his tales of other lands, admitting that what she wanted more than anything in life was to travel. His heart fell when he invited her to take to the seas with him, for she already had a husband, and a son Killian’s own age. As much as she wanted to go, she was adamant that she couldn’t abandon her boy to be raised by his cowardly father.

 

She did agree to at least join him on his ship for the night, where they made passionate love. Despite the fact that she was nearly twice his age, she was feisty and energetic, and when he left port the next day, Killian found his thoughts drifting off to her. He made it a point to revisit the port as often as possible, stealing away with his new mistress every chance he got.

 

Over the course of a year the crew had returned four times, and if any of the men had taken issue, they certainly knew better than to question their captain to his face. He and Milah had developed a routine of sorts. In order to keep up appearances, Killian would join his men at the local pub for a few pints of ale or glasses of rum, before sneaking out with his arm tucked around a lady of little reputation. Upon their exit, Killian would then pay the women a tidy sum to regail the men of his prowess the next morning. While she sought out her next customer in a different establishment, Killian would make his way back to his ship where his love would be waiting, eager for his return.

 

It was back at that same port where the men first began hearing tales of an evil enchantress. The stories varied from man to man, bar wench to bar wench, but in each story there was a woman who had been seduced by the dark arts. In most versions, she was a simple peasant, but in one or two, she was a high birthed nobel who had felt her need for power grow beyond that of mere mortals. She used her magic - magic that had been gifted to her by the devil himself - to strike down anyone that did not bow to her whims. She’d ensnared men to pleasure her for a night, and then killed them the next morning for having the audacity to dare touch her.

 

Killian had heard more than his fair share of fantasies on his travels, but never one so absurd. So the moment the story reached his ears as he sat in the familiar tavern, he couldn’t resist rolling his eyes.

 

“Codswallop.”

 

All of the men in the tavern turned to him, as if waiting for him to be struck down by the enchantress herself. Killian simply leaned back in his chair and took a long pull from his glass.

 

“He’s not wrong,” came a familiar voice, though missing the spark is usually held. “She took my son.”

 

Killian was at a loss, both for what Milah had said and for seeing her in the pub. Ever since they had established their routine, she had never ventured out to the pub to meet him, always waiting for him to come to her. And stranger still, from where he was sitting, he could tell that she was drunk.

 

Sending a look to his men, everyone scattered from the table, giving him a little more privacy to speak with her.

 

“What do you mean she took your son?”

 

When she didn’t immediately reply, Killian leaned forward, placing his hand on her wrist.

 

“Milah, love. What happened to Bae?”

 

When she turned, he could see tears in her eyes. They were duller than he’d ever seen them and she’d aged since he last saw her, the stress of losing her son evident in each new wrinkle. She was still beautiful to him though.

 

“What’s there to say? She bewitched him, and he fell for her. Rumple figured out who she was, but by then it was too late. She already had her sights set on him. We used all of our money to find a way to defeat her, but in the end Rumple was too cowardly to do anything about it, and I lost my son. She just took him like he meant nothing!”

 

And with that, Killian collected Milah and carried her back to his ship. He held her as she continued to cry, and when he asked her once again, as he always did, if she wanted to join him, she finally said yes. There was nothing left for her in Saint Helena except heartache.

 

They stayed that night, and together set off the next morning. Milah took to piracy quickly. She enjoyed being on the water. She was steady on her feet and quick witted around his men. There was also no question among the men in regards to who Milah belonged to.

 

The sun and fresh air did wonders for her mood as the months passed. She still had nightmares about losing Bae, never willing to share the pain with Killian, but in the light of day she always looked lighter.

 

The months turned to years. The fear surrounding Captain Jones’s reputation had never been worse - or better, depending on the situation. King George still made efforts to capture him, sending as many ships as he could spare, but they were few and far between as the kingdom teetered on the precipice of war with three of his neighboring kingdoms. The few ships that did manage to locate him had been easy enough to dispatch of.

 

His crew, once fine men of substance, had become ruthless under his influence. There still remained, however, a firm line that Killian had drawn in the beginning; no man would ever speak back to him, and no man would ever take a woman against her will. Everything else was a free for all, and as long as the men never crossed the line, they remained in good standing.

 

Those that were foolish enough to attempt to push the boundary were dealt with swiftly, although not often mercifully. Killian liked to make examples of them, letting their deaths linger. The more they screamed, the more pleasure he took. Milah, for her part, tried not to engage him during those times. She understood his reasons, but couldn’t stomach watching.

 

They had been together for five years by the time he had his first real brush with death. Sailing was tricky business and, depending on the time of year, even the most skilled of sailors couldn’t avoid every storm. He’d done well in the past, skirting the edges, causing only a minimal amount of damage to his ship. He’d learn to predict them well enough, but not all storms were the same.

 

Some were caused by unnatural forces, by magic. Crews were often savagely attacked by crackens, witches, curses, and even something called ‘The Dark One’. None of them compared to the storm brought about by mermaids, however. Those were hell on earth from he’d read. The skies would blacken, the winds would whip around them. It reminded him of the night his father had left, but he refused to let that memory linger. Not when his ship and crew were in danger. He wouldn’t abandon them the way his father had him.

 

He’d been barking out orders for the men to tighten lines when, on one such night, the storm began. Milah was safely stowed below in their room, much to her chagrin - she hated not being part of the action, but neither of them had ever encountered a storm as destructive as this one, and Killian wasn’t willing to risk it. Risk _her_. So she stayed below, a ball of nervous energy as she listened to the hurried footsteps and rain pounding against the boards above her.

 

The strongest point of the storm was upon them, but the wind no longer howled. Instead, it carried a melody, a siren’s call. He’d heard of the legend, but had never experienced it for himself.

 

The song called to him, and like all of the other men on the ship, he was powerless to ignore it. Abandoning the tasks before them, all of the men fell into a hypnotic state, listening to the melody, uncaring that they were floating to their death.

 

The Jolly sailed ever closer to stretch of cliffs, straight towards a pair of sea stacks jutting up from the waves. Each one was massive in size, and in a contest against the jagged rocks, the Jolly would surely lose. Still, the men, enraptured by the tune, gave no thought to the danger ahead.

 

It was Milah who finally came to their rescue. She’s seen the cliffs and stacks coming closer from the port window in their shared cabin. She’d been waiting and waiting for Killian to correct their course, and when it became evident that he had no such intention, she climbed back up on the deck. It was covered in water and she nearly slipped twice while trying to get to Killian.

 

She yelled his name, but he remained unresponsive. Harshly, she took his face in both of her hands, trying to reach him, but his eyes were distant, and despite everything she tried, he remained entranced by an unknown entity. Fear gripped at her heart, as she’d never seen him so far gone before. Not even on the anniversary of Liam’s death each year, when Killian drank himself into oblivion. Looking around for help, she saw that all of the other men were just as powerless.

 

Unwilling to give up, Milah ran to the main sail, tightening a dropped line. Killian had shown her a time or two, explaining the purpose of each part of the ship, but she’d never paid much attention. She’d always cared more about the ‘when’ and ‘where’ of their journey than the ‘how’.In that moment, though, she wished she’d paid more attention. She drew on anything and everything she’d witnessed since joining the ship, and by some miracle, she got everything in its proper place, or at least well enough secured to catch the wind.

 

As she made her way to the wheel, she slipped on a piece of seaweed that had made its way onto the walkway. Her side burned as she fell against the stairs, and she was positive more than one rib had broken. Undeterred, she fought her way back up. The wheel was nearly impossible to turn with her injured side, which felt as if it were splitting in two each time she moved her right arm, but she thought of Killian and of how he’d been through worse. He’d always kept going, and so would she.

 

It felt like an eternity before the ship turned enough to create distance between the Jolly and the cliffs. The men, still under the siren’s spell, remained unmoved until the stacks were but a speck in the distance.

 

When they all finally came to, there was mass confusion. The men had no idea how they had escaped. Killian, for his part, launched into action, bellowing out orders to his mean to secure the remaining lines and to inspect the ship. He wanted nothing more than to go downstairs and check on Milah, but his duty was to the ship first. He had to ensure their safety above all else. But when he turned to head towards the wheel, he was stunned to find Milah already at the helm.

 

She cried out as he embraced her, the pain blooming in her ribs. Once he was certain they were out of the storm, he helped her back to the cabin, undressing her carefully to inspected her side. By his count, two ribs were broken and a third was badly bruised. She was alive though - they all were, thanks to her. His fierce Milah.

 

It took a while to properly explain what he’d experienced. Hearing the melody, being unable to control his body. He’d seen Milah when she’d tried to break through to him, but it had been a haze, and her words had been completely drowned out by the siren.

 

They both read up about the strange creatures in one of Liam’s old books afterwards. They learned how some mermaids had the power to control men with the voice, though the stories hadn’t even come close to describing how terrifying the experience was. To know you were going to die, but to simply not care. Killian tried to explain the power he’d been under, how, in that state, he wanted the song to be the very last thing he’d ever hear.

 

He spent the rest of the night apologizing to her for putting her life in danger, for being so weak. But Milah understood and told him there was nothing to forgive. She knew that no man had ever been able to resist the siren’s call, and she never doubted his love for her.

 

It was less than a year later when he had his next brush with death. He and Milah had docked in a little port town in Glowerhaven. The kingdom had touted a large navy, but he’d heard through other sailors along the way that the bulk of their ships had been dispatched to cover the border between their kingdom and King George’s. Killian almost hated that he was missing out on the action, on the chance to do more damage to the treacherous king. Had it not been for Milah, he’d probably have sailed right into the thick out it, ready to take out as many ships as possible, even it it was a suicide mission.

 

The village was remote enough that he wasn’t worried about being discovered by any of the royal guards, but close enough that they could easily acquire enough supplies to restock the ship. They spent the day replenishing their stock before choosing to find a local tavern to spend the evening in. While Killian had been completely content with his stock of rum, many of his crew, Milah included, prefered ale or other libations. The lack of variety often grated on the men, so Killian insisted on trying to give the crew freedom to relax whenever possible.

 

It was on the way back to the ship, after far too many drinks, that a cloaked man bumped into him. Unable to help himself, Killian pressed the matter, telling the man how rude and disrespectful he’d been. His words were slightly slurred, but he’d laid the insults on thicker than usual to impress his men and Milah.

 

The cloaked man continued to look down at the ground, cowering into a kneeling position, still hiding his face. It wasn’t until Killian kicked him, knocking him on his side, that the cloak’s hood fell back, revealing the monster hidden within the layers of wool. His face, familiar as it was, was covered in golden scales. His eyes burned amber, and his nails drew to points.

 

“Rumple?”

 

As soon as the name slipped past Milah’s lips, the monster lets out an eerie cackle that set Killian’s stomach in knots. He’d seen the man before, twice in fact, but he’d been different back then. He’d been a man, a coward. He’d pleaded for Milah to return home with him the first time Killian had laid eyes on him. It had been immediately apparent why Milah had wanted to leave him so badly, but the the man had moved, revealing their son, and Milah’s entire demeanor had changed. She’d given Killian an apologetic look before quickly following both men off of the dock.

 

The second and final time he’d seen him had been the morning he and Milah had finally set off together. Milah had still been fast asleep in his quarters, sleeping of their amorous activities the night before. Killian had woken with the sun, as always, and had been preparing the Jolly to ship out when the man had hobbled up his gangplank. He’d begged Killian to let Milah come home, as if Killian had been holding her against her will. Infuriated, Killian mocked the man, telling him to kiss his boots if he really wanted his wife back. The man had, proving to Killian how everything Milah had ever said about him had been true. The man was a coward.

 

It had only angered Killian further, spurring him to challenged the cripple to a duel. He’d carelessly tossed a scabbard at the man, telling him that a real man would fight for his love. The man had picked up the sword, but, after only one careless step, had crumpled to the deck. He’d looked up at Killian, pleading once more for the return of his wife, but Killian had had none of it. With a simple look at two of his crew man, the cripple had been unceremoniously escorted from the Jolly, thrown from the gangplank back to the docks. The crew had all laughed and mocked the man as he’d hobbled his way back home.

 

Killian had never expected to see the man again. A part of him had even assumed that he was dead, having lost his entire family and being unable to care for himself. Yet there he was, almost. He’d transformed, an obvious use of some form of dark magic.

 

“My, my,” the imp drew out. “Well this **_is_** an interesting turn of events.”

 

Killian could feel the hairs on his arm beginning to rise. The air was almost electric, a tinge of magic radiating off of Milah’s ex-husband.

 

Unwilling to show his fear, Killian strapped on his cocky pirate persona.

 

“I almost didn’t recognize you. From coward to crocodile. I’m not sure if that’s much of an improvement, mate,” he said, making sure to pop the ‘t’ at the end.

 

“Oh, I’m much more that that. Perhaps you’ve heard of The Dark One.”

 

Killian’s gut wrenched as the man stood, and judging by the way Milah’s eyes widen, she was just as shocked. They’d heard of him, of course, but the Dark One was just supposed to be an old wives’ tale. A tall tale, a figment of the imagination, told by sailors with too much time on their hands.

 

“Ahh, you **_have_** heard of me.” The crocodile laughed again and Killian swallowed thickly.

 

“Aye, and what do you want?”

 

“Oh, Captain, there’s nothing here that I want,” he said as his eyes raked over Milah’s form. “But I do believe I’m owed something.”

 

“And what would that be, Rumple?” Milah asked.

 

He laughed again, and before Killian could blink, the man disappeared before his eyes, only to appear suddenly a moment later behind Milah.

 

“Oh, _that_? Nothing much, just his life.”

 

There was a feral smile on the imp’s face, his scales glistening in the dim light of the moon. Killian tried to grab his scabbard to defend himself, but he’d had too much to drink, and he stumbled forward. Milah ran to him, placing herself between him and her ex.

 

“Rumple, he didn’t steal me. I went with him willingly. Why can’t you just let me go?”

 

“This has nothing to do with you, dearie. It’s between me and your lover.”

 

Killian tried to lunge at the man, but Milah blocked him.

 

“Not now, not like this,” Rumple said with disgust. “No, we duel tomorrow on your ship. I want to finish this where it all started.”

 

Before Killian could utter another word the man was gone.

 

Milah pleaded with him to leave, to slink away in the dead of night, but Killian’s pride wouldn’t let him. He was no coward. He’d never run from a fight before, and he certainly wasn’t about to run from Rumple.

 

Dawn came, and Killian waited on the upper deck, tense from being on high alert all night. Just as the rest of his crew emerged and Milah appeared, the crocodile finally showed. His skin had a green tinge to it in the morning light.

 

“Let’s get this over with,” Killian spat out. He was tired of waiting. Win or lose, he needed it to be finished.

 

“I’ll tell you what, Captain,” Rumple started. “We can skip this entire duel if you wish.”

 

“What are you playing at crocodile?”

 

He laughed, and even sober it had the same chilling effect.

 

“I’ll spare your life, if you kiss my boot.”

 

“Never!” He growled out, pulling his weapon from his belt.

 

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

Their swords clashed, the ringing of metal striking through the air. Initially, Killian had seemed to be gaining ground on the imp, having years of experience and muscle memory on his side, but Rumple had simply been toying with him. With a flick of the croc’s hand, a rope snapped, and a large metal hook fell on Killian’s head, knocking him down. His sword fell from his grip, and as he rolled over to reclaim it, he felt the piercing sting of metal cutting through his flesh.

 

“Killian!”

 

He heard Milah’s screams, but the pain was too great to make any sort of response back. There was blood everywhere, and he felt himself weakening.

 

“What are you waiting for?” Rumple was still standing above him, ready to strike. “Finish it!”

 

“Now why would I do that? I’ve got what I came for.”

 

He felt Milah’s body pressing against his, her arms wrapped around him. He was still losing blood, and the loss had caused his head to spin.

 

“You see, Captain, it was five years ago that you took my wife. So today, I took five fingers from you.”

 

Killian’s eyes had become heavy, and he had to fight the impulse to let them close. He blinked a few times, and when his vision cleared, he saw the imp holding his left hand.

 

Everything after that was a blur. There was a bustle of activity on the ship. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since The Dark One had severed his hand, but he felt cold and close to death. Milah was still with him, cradling the stump, trying to apply pressure and reduce his blood loss. Soon, his quartermaster - a man by the name of Edward Teynte - was at his side with a bottle of rum, and a bucket of hot coals.

 

“I’m sorry, Capt’n, but this is goin’ to hurt like hell.”

 

Before he could react, a strap of leather had been shoved in his mouth, blocking his screams as pain radiated through his entire being. The rum being poured over his open wound wasn’t the worst of it, he soon found. The shear agony he felt as the hot metal pressed against what remained of his skin was worse than death itself. It wasn’t long before he passed out from the pain.

 

When he came to again, there was so much pain he could hardly stand it. Milah had been pressing wet towels to his forehead, telling him to relax. There was worry in her eyes, but he was in too much distress to really register it, to care about it. Instead, he let the fever overtake him and passed back out again.

 

The days that followed passed in much the same way. He’d wake for a few minutes and then drift back into the blissful nothingness. The Jolly had been roughly a week away from the nearest port, but the crew pushed themselves to the brink and arrived there in five days. As soon as their boots touched soil, they rushed their captain to the village doctor.

 

The doc set to work, but his face was grim and Milah knew that recovery was a long shot. But Killian had always said that he was a survivor. He had to make it. For a week still, she waited by his side. The doc changed his bandages every few hours, adding some mint scented cream to the wound each time. He used a funnel to pour medicine down his throat. Milah felt for him, but each time he coughed or gagged at the taste, even unconsciously, she smiled. It meant he was still there, still fighting.

 

Finally the fever broke, and when he woke, Milah and two of his men were there sleeping in chairs by his bed. Everything had felt like and odd dream, but as he lifted his hand, he saw the bandages around his wrist and everything came flooding back. His breathing became uneven as he panicked, and Milah cried out for the doctor while trying to calm him. There was another dose of medicine in hand in an instant. Killian’s men had to hold him down while the blonde doctor tried to force the contents of the vial into his mouth. He held Killian’s mouth shut until he was forced to swallow the vile liquid. Within moments he fell into a deep slumber.

 

It took months for him to fully recover and his emotional scars ran just as deep as the physical ones. He’d tried his hardest to push Milah away, but she’d refused, telling him that just because he was missing a hand didn’t mean he was any less of a person. Eventually, he learned to embrace it. He even had his brace fitted for a hook rather than the customary wooden hand, knowing that it would set him apart. It would be more useful in the long run, and help to intimidate his advisories.

 

Another year passed with Milah by his side. For seven years they’d been together, happy with their relationship the way it was, never feeling the need to make it legal. They were happy and that was all that mattered. They became braver in their exploits, taking on larger vessels than before, more often than before. Men cowered at his new moniker and the world was theirs for the taking.

 

In retrospect, he should have known that it was too good to last. The day had started off as usual. They were sailing for Port Renauld to stock up on their food supply. There had been whispers that the Evil Queen had taken refuge in the dark forest there. Having had his fill of magic wielders, Killian had made it clear to his men that when they arrived, they’d be restocking for a short time only, and then be immediately on their way again. It was the first time he’d ever denied his men furlough, and they all understood the seriousness of his orders.

 

A day before they were supposed to arrive, though, Killian woke to find his bed empty and the sheets on Milah’s side cold. He got up and dressed quickly with the intention of going above deck to find and check on her, but as he reached for the door, he found a note attached to the wood just above the handle. His new moniker, Captain Hook, was scrawled out in fancy letters at the top, followed by a crude drawing of a simple map and one written line.

 

_Come alone._

 

There was no debate, no question in his mind on what he had to do. He followed the instructions to the letter.

 

They docked in Port Renauld and Killian slipped away as his men, who were headed into town to barter and collect the supplies. His path took him into the heart of the dark forest, aptly named. Each tree appeared to have been chard with fire, blackened beyond the night sky. It was eerily quiet as he trapsed through thickets and thorn bushes. There were no birds singing, no crickets chirping. It was dead silent.

 

The location itself was less isolated than he’d expected. The trees had parted to reveal a large clearing that surrounded a grand castle, its two large towers rising proudly toward the clouds.  He approached cautiously and, despite his instincts screaming otherwise, surrendered without fuss when he was stopped by a trio of black knights. They grabbed his arms and roughly dragged him through the castle, depositing him instead a large chamber. The space was empty, aside from dozens of mirrors lined up against each of the walls. The eeriness of it all made his skin crawl, but he’d spend the rest of eternity in the deepest dungeons in existence if it meant that no harm would befall Milah. So he waited, if not willingly then at least patiently, to face his captors.

 

As second nature, Killian looked around the room, taking in all of the ways in and out, formulating an escape plan should he need it. There was a balcony opposite the door he’d come in, but judging from the number of stairs he’d climbed on the way in, it was too high up to leap from. That left only the main doors, which was problematic.

 

He wasn’t left to contemplate his exit strategy for long, though. He soon heard heels clicking across the stone outside the room, moments before a woman emerged. She was wearing all black, down to the black diamonds that circled her neck. Her ample bosom was on full display in the tight corset of her dress and Killian wondered if that was for his benefit, or if she often dressed provocatively as a defense mechanism. A camouflage to distract people from looking inward, to seeing whatever it was she was hiding.

 

“Captain.”

 

Killian watched her as she moved about the room, taking him in just the same.

 

“Ah, you have me at a disadvantage,” he smirked. “You seem to know who I am, but I am at a loss as to who you are, lass.”

 

Something flickered across the woman’s face, something akin to irritation, but it was quickly disguised when a sickeningly sweet smile.

 

“Oh, I think you know exactly who I am,” she poured out seductively, “Hook.”

 

She’d moved closer to him as she spoke. Close enough that she was able to brush her fingers over his chest.

 

Yes, he knew exactly who she was. The news of the banished queen made for good stories around the taverns.

 

“Regina.”

 

“That’s _Her Majesty_ , to you.”

 

Just then, a black knight emerged with a tray, carrying two goblets of wine. Regina took the first and motioned for Hook to take the other. He was weary though, having knowledge of her reputation. It was a firm belief among the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest that she’d poisoned her husband, the king of Misthaven.

 

“Don’t worry, Captain. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you while you slept.”

 

It was then that Killian realized that she’d been in his cabin, completely unaware to him. That she’d taken his love as they’d both slept. There could only be one reason that the queen hadn’t taken him then and there as well. She was _playing_ with him. Enticing him to come to her, making him grovel, making him _beg_. But for what?

 

“Then what is it that you want?”

 

“Straight to the point then I see. I have something you want, and you have something I want.”

 

“And what could I possibly have that could be of use to you?”

 

He knew she had Milah, but as far as anything he could offer, he was at a loss. It was no secret that Regina had limitless magic at her disposal, as well as an army. Anything that would take Killian and his crew weeks to acquire would take the evil queen but a wave of her hand.

 

“What you have, Captain, is an ability to make woman fall at your feet.”

 

“Excuse me?” He choked out, nearly spitting his wine everywhere.

 

“It’s simple really. I have your lover, and if you want her back, I need something in exchange. There is a woman. I need you to seduce her.”

 

He was stunned. That was not what he had expected.

 

“This woman, who is she?”

 

“The less you know the better.”

 

Killian was intrigued, but his irritation won out. Kidnapping, murder, torture, those where all things he could do, but seducing another woman, sleeping with her. No. He’d never betray Milah that way.

 

“And if I refuse?”

 

She smirked, clearly having been expecting his response. Walking to one of the many mirrors, she waved her hand across the glass. Her reflection disappeared, giving way to a new image. Milah, resting on a bed, eyes closed.

 

Panic rose in Killian’s throat. _“What have you done to her?”_

 

The queen rolled her eyes. “She’s not dead if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just a simple sleeping curse. Do as I ask, and when you’re done, I’ll take you to her and you can wake her with True Love’s Kiss. Refuse me, and she stays trapped like that forever.”

 

Killian started to lunge for her, but her hand came up and he felt a tightening in his chest. His throat constricted and, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t breathe.

 

“Now, now, Captain. Did you really think you could hurt me?”

 

She lowered her hand and he fell to the ground gasping, trying desperately to quell the burning in his lungs.

 

“Besides, she’s not even here, and if you kill me, you’ll never find her.”

 

He could feel the rage building inside of him again as he drew in deep breaths.

 

“So, what? You want me to find this woman and sleep with her? How is that going to help you?”

 

“I never said you had to sleep with her. That’s your business. I simply need you to **_seduce_** her, for her to fall in love with you. That’s it. Anything beyond that is up to you.”

 

“And once she falls in love with me?” He pushed.

 

The queen’s smirk grew. “Oh, so confident. I love it!”

 

Killian’s teeth began to hurt as he clenched his jaw.

 

“Leave that to me,” she said simply, waving him off. “Make her fall in love with you, and you get your precious girlfriend back.”

 

Killian thought about it. Making a woman fall in love with him when he had no intentions of reciprocating those feelings was bad form. And even if he could, he wasn’t sure what the repercussions would be. Anything that Regina wanted had to be bad, even by a pirate captain’s standards. He’d heard enough stories to know that she was a monster, capable of destroying entire villages in an instant and sending enemies cowering behind their castle walls. Killian was not in the business of dealing with such people, especially ones that could easily kill Milah and him both the moment she got what she wanted. He knew better than to trust a woman like her to uphold her end of the bargain, and if it hadn’t been Milah’s life on the line, he would have left without another word.

 

But as terrible an offer as it was, it was one that he couldn’t refuse. If he did, he’d never find Milah. Even if he searched for the remainder of his life, Regina had magic and could keep her hidden, even in plain sight. And so, once again, there was no debate on what he had to do.

 

“And where do I find this woman?”


	6. 5

 

The air on the trip to the Northern Isles was thick and suffocating. Killian could hear the whispers from his men as they sailed fast and hard. Most were confused by the departure of the ship’s mistress. Others were worried about his mood. To their credit, he had stormed the deck like a mad man, shouting for them the prepare the ship for an immediate departure.

 

Regina had shown him an image of the woman he was to find through one of the other mirrors in the room. It was much smaller, and the picture was slightly distorted and grainy. Even still, through the poor vision, Killian had to admit that she was stunning. Her golden tresses glowed in the sunlight, tangling into loose curls behind her shoulders. Her dress did nothing to conceal her lithe figure either, and in another time or place, he imaged that he may have even enjoyed Regina’s task.

 

But as it was, his heart already belonged to another, and it was only out of desperation to save his Milah that he dared give the blonde woman any thought at all. As the Jolly hit a particularly nasty wave, briny salt water splashed on his face, but all he could think of was Milah. What would Milah say when she found out what he was doing for her? Would she hate him for seducing another woman, for playing the part of a man interested in receiving this woman’s attentions? Would she understand why he’d done it? Would she hate him for hurting this stranger?

 

But then a thought occurred to him; no matter what she thought, at least Milah would be awake and safe. He could deal with any fall out later, as long as he knew that his love was going to be okay.

 

He also couldn’t help but wonder about the blonde woman. ‘Emma,’ as Regina had called her. The only things he’d been told about her aside from her first name was that she was living in the isle furthest north, in a small village. He was to seduce her into falling in love with him. Nothing more. Nothing less.

 

Her face played over in his mind as he thought back to the scene he’’d witnessed in the queen’s mirror. She’d been oblivious to the intrusion as she cared for another woman in was appeared to be a small shack. The wood around them was rotting away, barely enough room for a bed and small kitchen. Yet as she’d placed a cloth on the woman’s forehead, she’d paid no attention to her surroundings, to the worn down walls or the stained floors. No, she’d only watched the woman, talking to her softly and muttering words of reassurance in her ear. She was angelic almost in her reverie, reminding him of his own mother.

 

What could she have possibly done to have incurred Regina’s wrath? And moreover, why him? What did he have to do with any of it?

 

His pondering was interrupted by the quartermaster. He was one of the few crew members that knew Liam as anything other than Captain.

 

“Land ho, Captain!”

 

The men began scurrying about the ship, preparing to dock. Killian was cautiously looking through his spyglass. The Northern Isles were well known, but not often traveled to by most people. The ruling council had been with aristocratic deviants, and the monarchy had made more than their fair share of enemies if the rumors were to be believed. From what he’d gathered, people only lived there because they had been born into money and were content to live off of their parents’ wealth, were too poor to move away, or they wanted not to be found.

 

The blonde had worn a modest gown, obviously not fitting into the first group, though she seemed well cared for, clean, and healthy. She obviously wasn’t struggling to survive either. That left only one option. She was hiding from something. And if that ‘something’ was big enough to involve the Evil Queen, he knew that he was likely walking into a minefield.

 

Killian descended to his quarters as the crew guided them into the harbor. Usually he preferred to remain above deck to supervise, but his crew was experienced, and he needed a few moments to compose himself for the task at hand.  He’d flirted with the occasional bar wench to gather information, but for the past seven years, he’d really only had eyes for Milah. The looks, the saucy innuendo, it had all been a means to an end, only made easier by the knowledge that Milah would be by his side once more soon after. There was no lingering guilt.

 

Now, though, everything felt different. Milah wasn’t there to reassure him, and the game he was meant to play with Emma would be far more intimate than anything he’d said or done with the women from the tavern. He wasn’t honestly sure if he even had it in him. Lust was one thing, but _love_? That took devotion. It took time and patience.

 

He took in a sharp breath, standing slightly taller, hoping that it would compensate for whatever confidence he was lacking in that moment. Before he could do anything more, there was a knock at the door.

 

“Enter,” he growled out.

 

It was Ed, his third in command after Mr. Smee.

 

“Captain.” The man nodded as he entered the quarters.

 

Killian could feel the tension in the room. Ed was looking anywhere in the room but at him as he continued to fiddle with a ring on his finger, the one he never removed, even after the death of his wife years before he and Killian had even met.

 

“Is there a reason you’re here, or have you simply come to grind on my nerves?”

 

He had a feeling that he knew where the conversation was headed, which was only confirmed when the man finally found the fortitude to speak.

 

“Forgive me, Captain, for my forwardness...” The man paused, seeking his next words delicately. “But, Mistress Milah is no longer with us, and the crew finds themselves concerned.”

 

“What exactly is it that you’re getting at?”

 

Ed tried to begin, but stumbled over his words. “We, uh, just wanted to make sure you were alright, Captain.”

 

Killian knew he wanted to say more, to question what had happened to cause Milah’s disappearance from the Jolly. He’d been quiet their first day of sailing, but as it had become apparent that the crew was becoming restless for answers, he’d begun dropping small hints that he’d left Milah in the port after a nasty disagreement and that their relationship was over. He’d been vague, but he’d needed his crew prepared for when he brought a new woman on board. His men were fiercely loyal to Milah, and he was well aware of what complications could arise from their gossiping. It would be better to crush the rumors early.

 

And as much as the ruse bothered him, Killian knew it was for the best., If the crew knew the truth about their mission, they would insist on sailing to the four corners of the world to search for her, vehemently protesting him taking another lover, even if it was just for show to get Milah back. No. They needed to believe things were over and that Milah was a thing of the past. It was the only way he’d ever get her back.

 

“Mr. Teynte. As the dissolvent of our relationship was no fault of mine, I assure you that I am in fact fine. The remainder is of no concern to you or the crewmembers. Understand?

 

“Yes, Sir. Apologies, Sir.”

 

Killian watched as the man slowly inched his way back to the door, waiting for a sign of dismissal. Nodding his head, the man took off and Killian was left to stew over his crews insubordination.

Anger.

That was an emotion his was familiar with. That was something he could work with. With that thought, he used his anger at Regina to propel himself into his past self. Into the man he was before Milah.

 

The island itself was drab, reminding him of a farming village his father had taken him to as a boy. The homes were made of cobblestones, wood, and whatever else could be found. Some of the homes closer to the port looked as if they could barely survive a fierce wind.

 

Killian had ordered his men to remain onboard the Jolly, not willing to risk any of them saying something to compromise his mission. It had been ages since he’d ventured into a town alone. Even when he’d gone to find Milah, his men had still been gathering supplies, and he knew that a hard sprint could have him back under their protection if need be. Not that he wasn’t a skilled fighter, but there was safety in numbers. Now he was on his own though, with nothing more than his own wit to guide him.

 

He wandered around the village for a few hours, looking to catch a glimpse of the flaxen woman, but eventually his stomach began taunting his failures and he was forced to seek food from a local tavern. The inside was clean enough, although it contained a smell that he’d rather not have been privy to. The smell of unwashed bodies covered in sweat, mud, and, unfortunately, manure. He seemed to be the only one put off by the stench.

 

There were a few empty seats at the bar, and he chose the one furthest to the end, distancing himself from the others. The bartender, a burly man of roughly forty years, approached and asked his order. When he returned with a glass of rum, Killian caught his hand. The man stiffened, obviously taking it as a sign of aggression and squared his shoulders, ready to fight if need be.

 

It took Killian by surprise. In most of the towns he’d been to, people knew of him, of his reputation, the moment he walked through the door and always cowered to him. He’d never had a man look at him with such defiance before.

 

“Relax, mate. I’m not here to fight. I just need some information.”

 

The man relaxed, and Killian took it as a good sign.

 

“I’m not sure what good I’ll be to ya. Most of the people in this town aren’t here by choice, they aren’t the kind of people you’d be interested in.”

 

“And what of those few that are here by choice?”

 

Killian watched as the man’s jaw ticked.

 

“Well then they’re here because they don’t want to be found, and you’d best be leaving them to it.”

 

Killian could sense a modicum of fear radiating from the man as he said it. The Northern Isles were hardly known for harboring criminals the way other places, but in retrospect, they’d be the perfect place to hide in plain sight. The isle he was currently on was extremely isolated, and at that time of year required great skill to navigate to. No one wanted to do dealings with the royal family, and therefore never visited. Perhaps Emma wasn’t the only person of concern of the island.

 

“If I had a choice in the matter, I’d be far from here, believe me. But fate had other plans, and I’m in need of finding a woman.”

 

The man scoffed.

 

“Surely you’d be better off finding a woman elsewhere. The lasses here are daudy, from what I’ve been told. Like I said, I’m no help to you.”

 

Killian looked around the room, finding the man’s statement to be true. Most of the women looked far older than their years. Hard lives could do that to a person, he supposed. He’d seen it in Milah, after all, when Bae had been killed.

 

“I’m looking for a _specific_ woman,” Killian continued. “Her name is Emma. I believe she-“

 

“I’ll stop you right there. That’s no woman. She’s a witch, and you’d do well to stay far away from her.”

 

“A witch?” Killian scoffed, hoping to hide his concern.

 

“Yes, a witch. She practices dark magic, and if you don’t believe me, just ask anyone in this tavern.”

 

Their voices had risen in volume and Killian caught more than a few heads turn in their direction.

 

“Hey, you lot. This fool is looking for the Swan girl. Any of you willing to help him out?”

 

The heads always quickly turned, burying themselves in their meals and drink.

 

“Like I said, she’s dark. No one in this town has anything to do with her unless they’re absolutely desperate, and even then, it comes with a steep price. If I were you, I’d head back in whatever direction you came from and forget about her.”

 

With that, the man left, tending to the other patrons. He heard people whispering, saw them sneaking glances at him, but as soon as he caught any of their eyes, they turned back away. Eventually, a woman arrived with a plate of meat. She said nothing to him as she delivered the plate, lingering only long enough to see if he required anything else before darting away.

 

Killian ate in silence, paid for his meal, and left with no more information than he’d started with, aside from the fact that she practiced magic. He could feel a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. Magic had cost him his brother. Magic had taken Milah from him. It had almost destroyed his ship. It had even cost him his hand. Magic had never done him any favors, and after spending his entire adult life running from it, now he was being forced to seek it out.

 

It was late when he left the tavern, the sun beginning to set on the horizon. He’d been ready to call it a night and return to his ship when he caught sight of a small thatch cottage. There was a large chunk missing from the top of the roof and the top of a wall. He immediately recognized it from the image Regina had shown him of the blonde, of the ‘Swan girl’.

 

Preparing himself, he removed his hook, hoping to hide who he really was, at least long enough to get her onboard the ship. Even then, he’d need to be cautious. If she really did possess magic, then it was likely that one angry thought from her could destroy everything. He hesitated as he knocked, unsure of whether the risk and consequence of failure was worth the reward, but as an image of Milah flashed through his mind, his resolved strengthened. He’d get Milah back, or he’d die trying.

 

The woman that opened the door nearly took his breath away. It wasn’t who he’d expected, but the sight of the woman before him moving around so easily when he’d just seen her on death’s door took him aback completely. It was the patient that had been laying in bed, coughing and sweating with fever. Yet now, there were no signs of sickness.

 

There was only one explanation. Magic.

 

“Can I help you?” Her voice was timid and frail.

 

“Forgive my manners, madame. I’ve come from far away seeking the assistance of a woman you may know. I believe her name is Emma.”

 

He noticed the woman stiffen, poking her head out the door, looking to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. She ushered him inside, taking one final look outside before closing the door.

 

The home was just as he had seen it - the bed was made of straw, a meager fire burned in the fireplace on the far wall. It was obvious that the woman had little to spare, so when she offer to make tea, he refused.

 

Instead she sat on her bed while Killian leaned against a pillar in the middle of the room.

 

“She’s not my friend.” Her voice was so soft he nearly missed it.

 

“Come again?”

 

“The woman you asked about. I-” she hesitated. “I don’t know her, not really.”

 

Killian quirked his brow. He’d seen the blond tending to the woman lovingly. He’d been sure that the women knew each other, cared for each other.

 

“She- Most people in the village refer to her as a witch. They say not to go anywhere near her or she’ll curse you.”

 

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. I have it on high authority that she’s helped you. If you could please just-”

 

The woman’s head snapped up.

 

“How- How do you know that?”

 

“Does it really matter?”

 

There was something dancing in her eyes, something close to terror.

 

“I told you, the people here think she’s evil, and if they found out that I had anything to do with her, that I asked her for help, I’ll be ostracized.”

 

“Relax. I’m not here to turn you in. It’s imperative that I find her myself. Please, just tell me what you know of her.”

 

The woman took a deep breath.

 

“Her name _is_ Emma, and she is a witch, but she’s not the awful person the villagers believe her to be. Or at least she wasn’t to me. I was very ill, so my husband sought her out and brought her here to tend to my fever. I was delirious, so I can’t be certain what she did to me, but I believe she saved my life.”

 

The woman before him played with her hands, knotting them around in her lap.

 

“We tried to pay her, but she refused.”

 

Killian nodded in understanding. Just as he couldn’t take advantage of her hospitality, the Swan woman couldn’t bring herself to accept money when they had so little to give. Perhaps she truly wasn’t evil after all.

 

But she did possess magic, if her healing the woman was any indication. He knew all too well how easily men succumbed to fevers. There was often little that could be done on his ship, and he’d lost more than one good man to illness after a port stop.

 

“I understand. And I promise I won’t tell anyone of this, just as I mean her no harm myself. I just need to find her. Do you know where she lives?”

 

The woman nodded, the fright in her eyes replaced by sorrow.

 

“She lives at the far end of the island, away from everyone else. She’s not welcome here, not unless she’s needed, and even then, it’s all hushed whispers and closed doors. They use her and then discard her. They further insult her to distance themselves.”

 

Killian felt his teeth clench, feeling anger towards the villagers. He emphasized with her, having been in her shoes once upon a time. When Liam had first joined the Navy, leaving him alone with royal navy tutors, none of his classmates had been welcoming. Liam’s purse afforded food and lodging for Killian, but not much more. His clothes were often worn and threadbare, and the other cadets had taken notice, whispering behind his back, already having made up their minds about him.

 

“Aye, I know the feeling.”

 

“Because you’re a pirate?” Killian could see the exact moment she realized what she’d said and the implication of it. “No, I didn’t mean it-”

 

Kindly, and with a sad smile, he cut her off, assuring her that he wasn’t angry. Sometimes he thought the same thing himself. His life was pretty good. He had his ship, his crew, immense wealth, and a woman he adored. Still, sometimes late at night, one swig of rum past his limit, he’d find himself wondering what Liam would think of him now. Gone was the man of good form that Liam had raised him to be. That man had been replaced with a monster.

 

Unwilling to let her words twist in his mind any more than they already had, he bid the woman farewell, but not before leaving a few coins at the edge of her bed in thanks. He wanted to seek Emma out immediately, to find her and get off the wretched island, but the sun had long set and clouds obscured whatever moonlight might have been visible. Instead, he returned to his cabin and fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of Liam’s death over and over again.

 


	7. 6

 

When the sun finally rose, Killian had already been awake for nearly half an hour. He readied himself, leaving instructions once again with Smee and Teynte not to allow any of the men to disembark. He could feel the crew’s uneasiness, but ignored it, knowing he’d be back soon enough, treasure in hand, and he wanted to be ready to cast off right away. As he stepped off, he heard Teynte calling out orders to scrub the ship from top to bottom.

 

Finding his way to the other end of the island had been easy enough by foot. He’d briefly considered bringing the Jolly around and taking a small rowboat ashore, but then remembered after passing by the far end of the island on the trip in, that it boasted of large cliffs. They were easily seven hundred foot tall, and while he considered himself adept at many things with his hook, he wasn’t about to go on a bloody suicide mission.

 

The far end of the isle was as beautiful as any island Killian had ever come across in his travels. It boasted of flat farmland, each plot separated by waist-high stone walls. Along the way, he saw fields growing various seasonal crops, though Killian saw no farmhouses to accompany them. That was, until he got to the very last stretch of land, where a single house made of stone and plaster stood. It was small, but not quite to the point of being quaint. Looking around, he noticed a small garden to the east of the cottage, with all types of magnificent flowers of every color, many he couldn’t identify. To the other side, further away from the cliff’s edge, was another garden, filled with narrow rows of fruits and vegetables. There was even a small covered building near the back of the property where he heard a goat bleating softly. He had to give it to her - Emma was completely independant and self sufficient. It was a very rare quality, even more so for a single woman. 

 

But what really caught his attention was the view from her yard. He could hear the waves lapping against the rocks, the smell of brine in the air. The water glistened blue for as far as the eye could see. It was heavenly, and in another life, he could almost see himself living there. Almost. That wasn’t his life though. He had the Jolly, and the sea at his beck and call. And he had Milah.

 

He took a breath to compose himself, plastering on his best attempt at the dashing pirate he often thought himself to be, and knocked on the door. No answer. It was still early in the morning, early enough that Emma should have been home, but not so early that he would have caught her still slumbering.

 

Against his better judgement, Killian stepped around the the side of the house and peered into a window. The window looked into a small bedroom, sparsely furnished. The accommodations were far more comfortable looking than the home he’d visited the previous evening, but there was nothing by way of personal effects. No mementos scattered around the room. If it weren’t for the one lone rucksack in the corner, he would have thought the place abandoned.

 

Feeling more brazen, and more certain that the Swan woman wasn’t home, Killian moved to the back of the cottage. The kitchen and living room were visible, and while there was plenty of furniture for one or two people, once again there were no personal effects. It was clear to him that Emma, for whatever reason, was a woman on the run. The rucksack he’d seen before must have been packed so that she could be ready to leave at a moment’s notice, if needed. It was something he could use to his advantage.

 

Killian had been pondering ways to convince the Swan woman to return to his ship with him. His initial instinct had been to kidnap her and steal away in the night, where he’d worry about seducing her after she was trapped. Learning that the woman had magic, though, had been problematic at best. He wasn’t sure how far her abilities extended, with some people like Regina and The Dark One being nearly unstoppable, while others simply knew a few spells but retained no innate powers. No, he wasn’t sure how gifted she was, but he also wasn’t willing to find out the hard way either.

 

He needed something more cunning and clever than brute force. He’d briefly considered getting her drunk and luring her back to the ship, but as she wasn’t allowed in a tavern and her cottage was far from his ship, he’d crossed that idea from his list. His options were running low, and as he walked to her home that morning, he’d decided just to lean on his wit and fast thinking. But fortune and fate had smiled upon him for once and had given him an idea. 

 

Not stopping to look for her, he made his way back to his ship, ignoring the questions from his crew. He was on a mission and needed to act quickly, while the vision of her from Regina’s mirror was still fresh enough in his mind. Grabbing some parchment from his desk and a piece of charcoal, he set to work, detailing everything thing he could remember. Her full lashes. Her dimpled chin, her long flowing hair. He didn’t stop until every detail was just perfect.

 

Emma Swan. Wanted for reasons of witchcraft and practicing the dark arts.

 

If Emma Swan was in hiding, he was going to give her a reason to run.

 

 

* * *

 

He waited until early evening to head back to the Swan’s house, hoping that the later hour would ensure that she was home. His men were getting restless, and he knew that soon he’d either have to leave the island without her, or explain their true purpose there. Neither were very appealing ideas.

 

The house was just as he had left it, though it was now bathed in the glow of sunset. The breeze carried with it hints of lilac and sage. Part of him felt guilty, seeing the haven she had built for herself, knowing that he was about to destroy everything for her. Knowing that he was likely going to destroy her life to regain his, especially when coupled with how kind she had been to the sick woman from before.

 

Waiting until there was only the faintest hint of light left, he took a few steps towards the side of the house, with the intent of spying on her through the side window. He wanted to get a sense of her as a person, something more than just the quick glimpse of her kindness to strangers. Aside from knowing that she had magic and was in hiding, he knew nothing about her. 

 

He had hoped to glean anything about her personality so he could determine the best way to approach her. It was the same way he read his opponents at cards and dice. Knowing what made them tick, how to push their buttons, had been instrumental in him becoming the pirate that he was. Telling Emma that someone was after her, that she was in danger could easily backfire on him if she was a fighter. It could cause her to buckle down even harder. If she was easily frightened it could send her spiraling. He needed to approach her with caution.

 

Unfortunately, in his musings, he’d failed to notice the movement behind him. 

 

“Unless you want a bow in your leg, you’ll stop right there and turn around.”

 

Killian winced, unaccustomed to having people get the drop on him. Slowly, he pivoted in his spot, finally catching a glimpse of her. The first thought that crossed his mind was that she was even more attractive in person. Her golden hair, her fierce eyes, her dimpled chin. The way her dress cinched at the waist revealing her curves.  His second thought was to chastise himself for thinking such a thing given that his love was currently under a spell. He’d do well to remember his place in the coming weeks.

 

“An island full of villagers who fear me and you’re the only one seeking me out. That either makes you desperate, or a fool. So which is it?”

 

“Neither.”

 

Killian cocked his head to the side, taking her in. Her bow form was nearly perfect, but he could see the way her finger twitched over the quiver. She’d been trained by someone highly skilled, but was going off of muscle memory. She hadn’t shot a bow in ages, judging by how taught she held her bowstring.

 

“The name’s Killian Jones. And I’m actually here on a mission of salvation.”

 

He watched as she rolled her eyes, letting her shoulders relax ever so slightly.

 

“The  _ name _ means nothing to me, and the only one who saves me, is me.”

 

“Ah.” He cut in before she could say anymore. “Perhaps you know me by my more colorful moniker. Captain Hook.” 

 

Killian held out his hook, making a show of it.

 

“Ya, still don’t know you. But judging by your clothing I’d say you were a pirate.”

 

He felt himself flinch at the way she spat out the word  _ pirate _ . His kind weren’t always welcomed or revered, but she’d said it with pure contempt, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he momentarily felt ashamed.

 

“I have no jewels or treasure, so why are you here?”

 

“Actually, I’m after something far more valuable.” He cocked his eyebrow at her in an effort to flirt, but quickly realized that it had been the wrong choice. “I hear that you’re an expert healer and I’m in need of your services.”

 

Slowly Emma loosened her hold on the arrow she had been training on him.

 

“You have a sick crewman?”

 

Killian scratched at a spot just below his right ear, a nervous habit he’d had since childhood. She’d been nothing like he expected, and he’d lost control of the entire encounter. 

 

“Not exactly. But-”

 

“Well then, as I have no intentions of sailing away with you until I’d be of use, I have nothing to offer you.”

 

He’d anticipated some reluctance from her, but he hadn’t anticipated her being as stubborn as a mule. 

 

“Ah, but I may have something here to help change your mind.”

 

He moved his hand to reach into his jacket, but as he did so, her bow immediately came back up, pointing straight at him. A lesser man may have been have been afraid of her, but Killian found himself fascinated by her tenacity.

 

“I’m just grabbing something out of my coat pocket.”

 

She gave him the slightest of nods, and he reached into a hidden breast pocket revealing a rolled up parchment. Slowly, he took a step towards her, holding the scroll out to her, encouraging her to take it. With reluctance, she did, but then immediately took two large paces backwards to reestablish the distance between them.

 

He watched as she unrolled the paper he’d spent so much time meticulously creating, taking care to weather and fray the edges, even creating a slight rip at the top as to give the effect that’s it had been torn from a tree. Her posture stiffened as she took it in, her eyes growing wider.

 

“Where did you get this?”

 

If there had been any doubt in his mind as to whether or not he’d misread the situation, it would have been eliminated in that moment. She did her best to keep her voice steady, but there was a tearsness just underneath it all. And her eyes, they’d shown him everything in a flash before he walls had come up. He saw his own eyes reflected back at him, from the night he’d woken up in the dark, adrift in the middle of a storm. The look he’d had when he’d realized that his father had abandoned him and Liam, selling them for freedom. The look of pure terror.

 

“Would it matter?”

 

Emma crumpled the drawing and threw it at his feet.

 

“Probably not.”

 

“Well then I bring you back to my offer. It would seem that you are in need of an escape, and I’m in need of someone with your skill set.”

 

“I already told you, I have no intention of joining you. I have enough to answer for without adding piracy to the list.”

 

“Aye, I thought you’d say as much, so I have a proposition for you. I have a doctor on my ship, but from what I’ve heard you’re the best. Come with me, and teach him what you know of potions, and I’ll sail you to any place you’d like. Even somewhere where no one will ever find you.”

 

She gave him a small smile, before brushing past him back towards her house.

 

“It’s a tempting offer, Captain, but I don’t believe such a place even exists.”

 

Something about her very existence, about the level of pain she carried with her seemed to cut into his very soul.

 

“I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing. Perhaps you could check the port of Alexandra. I hear they have a very skilled herbalist there. She probably even knows more than I.”

 

“Herbalist?” The words tumbled from his lips before he’d even realized that he’d opened his mouth.

 

“Yes. Contrary to what most people here believe, it’s not magic that I practice or potions that I brew. It’s simple salves and soups, made from plants known to have healing properties.”

 

Killian found himself completely perplexed, and more curious than ever as to why the Evil Queen had any interest in her. By any normal means, Emma was just an average girl. She’d no magic to speak of, no money, no power. She had nothing of any benefit to someone like Regina. She was of no competition.

 

“If you change your mind, my ship is moored at the docks. The largest vessel there, you can’t miss her. I’ll stay until morning.”

 

She smiled at him once again, her lips not matching the sadness in her eyes.

 

“That won’t be necessary.”

 

As she proceeded towards the door, Killian found himself compelled to walk away as well. Every fiber of his being was telling him that he needed to create distance between himself and this woman. There was a pull there that he found undeniable, and that terrified him more than the idea of losing Milah. She may not have had magic, but in only a few moments she’d bewitched him all the same.

 

“Oh, and Jones,” she called out, stopping him just as he reached the edge of her property. “I just wanted to thank you, for not turning me in yourself.”

 

Killian nodded back to her, unable to find words. 

 

As he crawled back into his bed, he couldn’t help but think of the Swan girl. She’d intrigued him in a way no other person ever had. He felt her pain, and while they may not have known each other, they understood each other, or at least he understood her. There was something in her past, something dark, like regret. Her soul called to him, mirrored his own, and he could only pray that he’d find the strength to do what he needed to.

 

 

* * *

 

There was something there, something just beneath the surface that pulled at Emma. A tingling sensation just below her skin that she couldn’t identify. There had been a magnetism present from the first second she had caught sight of his blue eyes and it frightened her.

 

He’d been gorgeous - she’d have been a fool to deny it. But if life had taught her anything, it was that pretty faces brought nothing but lies and misery. She’d been fooled one too many times, and despite the rushing heat moving through her body, she had no intention of letting him in. He’d been cocky, but Emma had sensed his false bravado immediately. He was afraid of her, just like everyone else. 

 

But something had shifted as they had spoken. When she’d taken the parchment from him and seen her face on it, along with the charges of witchcraft, she’d been terrified. She knew that the wanted poster hadn’t come from the villagers. She’d lived on the island for eight years, and while they been nothing but hostile to her, they feared her enough to worry about retribution. No, it had to have come from somewhere else.

 

Part of her feared that it had come from her parents. That banishing her hadn’t been enough and eventually they’d decided to come after her instead. To imprison her, or worse, to sentence her for her crimes. Misthaven didn’t have many laws. The more petty crimes required a monetary compensation to the wronged party, or a minor prison sentence. But death... blood required blood, and Emma knew that if she’d ever stepped foot in Misthaven soil again, her parents would have no choice but to execute her. 

 

The much larger, more rational part, had told her that it had something to do with the Evil Queen. The people of the kingdom had believed her to be dead, but Emma knew better, lurking in the shadows, listening to whispered conversations between her parents in the dead of night. Her mother had always been so adamant than even though Regina had been banished herself, that it was only a matter of time before she returned to seek her revenge. Before she returned to destroy Emma. 

 

She’d never understood why Regina had specifically sought her out for her vengeance, but she’d been fairly certain that it had to do with her parents and Regina’s promise to take away their happy ending. But that was before, when Emma was still loved. After everything Emma had endured since the night she stole away on a vessel, she’d learned one undeniable truth. 

 

She was unlovable.

 

Killing her would hardly harm her parents. Not in the way Regina meant to, at least. Determined to think of it no more, Emma readied herself for bed.

 

“It’s nice to see that at least once of my lessons took.”

 

Stunned, Emma turned to search for the intruder in her bedroom.

 

“Blue?”

 

Standing not five foot away from her was her fairy godmother, just as she’d remembered her, untouched by time. The same godmother that had abandoned her some many years before just as everyone else had.  

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Emma had been taken so off guard that she hadn’t even had time to get angry.

 

“Hiding your magic. It seems to be my only lesson you’ve carried with you.” 

 

There was a smirk on Blue’s mouth that sent Emma over the edge.

 

“What are you doing here?” Emma spat out, finding the fire inside her. Finding the pain.

 

“Emma,” the fairly said calmly. “I’m here to help you.”

 

“And where were you before? Where were you when I needed you?” 

 

Her fury was boiling over in only seconds and Emma was fighting back tears. Where had the fairy been when Graham had died? Where had she been when Emma was kicked out of her home? Where had she been eight years ago?

 

“You left me when I was fifteen. It’s been thirteen years!”

 

“And look at all of the things you’ve accomplished, my child.”

 

Emma was furious. 

 

“No thanks to you! I’ve been all alone for ten years. You could have shown up at any point, but you didn’t. You gave up on me just like everyone else!”

 

“Emma,” Blue whispered. “I’ve been watching over you, even when you didn’t know it. It killed me to stay away all of this time, but it was necessary. You’d been found out, and if anyone learned that I’d been the one teaching you, well, it would have started a war. In the past, humans have always been so fearful of magical creatures, and it’s never ended well for us. I have to stay away, to protect all of my sisters.”

 

Emma understood, but it did nothing to ease her own pain. 

 

“And after they threw me out? Why didn’t you come for me then?”

 

“Oh sweet girl. You have always been so much stronger than you know. I needed you to realize it for yourself.”

 

Emma wasn’t as sure about that last one. Yes, she’d been through so much and have managed to survive it all, but she hadn’t come out unscathed. There were hidden scars that would never heal. A crack in her heart that would never mend. She’d never be able to trust anyone again.

 

A single tear fell.

 

“So after all of this time, why now?”

 

“I think you know, Emma.There’s a war coming, and as strong as you are, as much as you’ve grown, I fear that not even you will be able to withstand what’s coming. Regina, she needs you to complete a dark prophecy.”

 

Emma felt her gut clench. She’d heard her parents arguing over a prophecy before, but she’d never known what it was. Every attempt to locate it in the library had failed. 

 

“Emma, I’m sorry to say that you can’t beat her. I’ve gone over ever scenario, looked for any and every magical object that can help us defeat her, but there’s nothing.” Blue’s face fell. “The only way to prevent Regina from gaining control over all of the land is to prevent her from ever finding you.”

 

“You want me to go with him.”

 

It wasn’t a question. Blue had been watching her, and knew that he’d offered to take her far away.

 

“Where would I even go? She has unlimited magic and could find me anywhere.”

 

“Not anywhere, Emma. Not in a place where time stands still. Have you ever heard of a place called The Mysterious Island?”

 

Emma listened carefully as Blue explained the island itself and where to find it. The island was roughly four months away by boat, but if Blue was to be believed, it was a land where time stopped. The inhabitants were frozen, captured in a single moment. There, Emma could not only escape from Regina, but from the past that haunted her. 

 

Emma had expressed concerns over traveling with pirates for so long. They weren’t known to be a trustworthy bunch. What if Killian said it was too far, or decided just to turn her over to Regina himself for the reward money? It was substantial, after all. Blue had simply told her not to worry and to have hope.

 

Blue bid Emma farewell, with one last parting thought.

 

“The captain, he’s been through a lot as well. Give him a chance. He’ll surprise you if you let him.”

 

And with that, the blue fairy flew away into the night, leaving Emma to think over what she had said. It was a huge gamble on Emma’s part. Trusting someone. But she was out of choices. The only other option was to let Regina win.

 

Emma walked to the window and found herself looking out at the north star once again. So many years before, she’d wished upon it for her own prince charming. She’d had the innocence to wish for something as silly as love. As an adult, she knew better. And yet, still, she found herself making one last wish. 

 

A wish for courage.

 

Sleep was elusive that night, and Emma finally gave up just before dawn. Changing from her nightgown, she donned a dress that she’d worn many times, and gathered what few possessions she’d need that weren’t already in her emergency satchel. 

 

Taking one last look around, she mourned for her little cottage. It wasn’t much, but for eight years it had been her home, and now it was nothing more than a memory.

 

The ship had been just as he said, dwarfing the few smaller vessels in the harbor. The first rays of light were beginning to shine out over the water and she could her men milling about. She waited, slightly unsure of what to do, but when she caught sight of him, it was if he already knew that she’d been waiting. Their eyes locked.

 

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

 


	8. 7

 

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

 

He quirked an eyebrow at her request as if studying everything about her, making her want to squirm under the attention. Even his crew had halted their tasks to see who was asking for permission to board the vessel. She’d been so used to the villagers averting their eyes when she was near that she’d become unaccustomed to public scrutiny.

 

“Aye, permission granted.”

 

She could feel his eyes on her as she nearly tripped trying to make her way up the gangplank. The wood beneath her feet creaked and wobbled under her added weight. The boards were almost rotten in places and every step closer seemed like a sign screaming danger. She was out of options though. If she wanted to escape Regina, he was her only option; she’d begrudgingly accepted his offer.  

 

The men aboard - his crew - were nothing like she’d assumed. Having met very few pirates, she’d only ever been able to rely on her schooling. Her parents had always described them as disgusting unkempt men, devoid of teeth and manners. She’d imagined tattered clothes, eye patches, and peg legs.

 

Then she’d met Captain Jones the night before and he’d shattered her expectations. The faces she saw seemed just as clean and well kept as Killian’s, although one of the taller men bore two scars across the right side of his face and his arms were heavily adorned with ink.

 

“Swan.”

 

“Jones.”

 

She’d had an odd desire to curtsey in that moment. Something embedded in her from her youth. It was the polite way to handle introductions, but she’d taken every precaution to suppress her old habits, fearful that it would give away her identity. Something about the captain though had sparked that innate desire to act as the royal she’d trained to be.

 

It bothered her, the way such a small gesture or only a few words from him could get under her skin. That a man she barely knew had such an effect on her. Even Neal, for all of his swagger and all of her naivety, hadn’t elicited such a reaction. Something about the entire thing just felt off, and she could feel her protective walls rising and strengthening around her.

 

“Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger.” She watched as his face lit up. His arms raised at each side as he showed off his ship. “Magnificent isn’t she?”

 

“She?”

 

“Yes, Swan.  _ She’s _ a marvel and you’d do well to remember it.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes. Yes, the Jolly was a sight to behold, reminding her of the brilliant naval ships that she used to watch from her window, but knowing that it had been used for ill-gotten gains tainted her beauty for Emma. 

 

“Well  _ she _ looks stolen.”

 

He laughed, deep and throaty.

 

“I prefer to think of it as she was ‘liberated’.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes again. 

 

“So,” she started, feeling awkward standing on the main deck with a bag slung over her shoulder while his crew continued to watch. “How long is it going to take to get to this mystery island?”

 

“ _ Mysterious _ Island,” he corrected. “And it’s roughly a three month journey, maybe less if we hit a good wind.”

 

Three months. It may as well have been an eternity, cooped up on a ship in the middle of the ocean. The men onboard hadn’t said anything, but Emma could sense from their tensed muscles and overall demeanor that she wasn’t a welcome addition. She’d read about sailors and their superstitions, that some men believed having a woman on a ship was back luck, a curse almost, but pirates were supposed to be a fearless lot.

 

“Great,” she said, the word laced with sarcasm. “So, uh- Where should I put my bag?”

 

“Noodle,” Killian called out, motioning with his hand for the man to join them. “Will you please show Miss Swan here to Mr. Smee’s quarters? She’ll be staying there for the duration of our trip.”

 

“But Captain,” called out a portly man in a worn out read beenie. “If she’s staying in my room, then where will I stay?”

 

Emma felt a shot of guilt in her stomach. The older man was clearly put out and that had never been her intention. She was fairly certain that putting out a member of the crew only five minutes after boarding was hardly going to win her any favors.

 

“You don’t have to-” She tried to salvage the situation, but Killian interrupted her.

 

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten your place Mr. Smee, but you are a member of  _ my  _ crew, and you’ll stay in the crew quarters on the berth deck, with the rest of  _ my  _ crew. Is that understood?”

 

“Ye- ye- yes, sir” he stammered out. 

 

“Now, Mr. Noodle, if you’ll be so kind as to show Miss Swan to her new accommodations and then give her a basic tour of the ship, I have a course to plot.”

 

Emma had half expected Killian to be the one to show her around rather than leaving her in the malformed hands of a stranger. She tried not to stare and the man named Noodle, an obvious nickname do to his deformation, but she’d never seen anything like it and couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away. Both of his wrists had been twisted so badly that his hands appeared to have been attached backwards. 

 

She’d obviously been staring for too long though.

 

“It’s not polite to stare.”

 

She felt hot breath against her neck, and turned to find the heavily tattooed man had entered her space, leaving hardly any distance between them. She could feel her magic tingling just beneath the surface, ready to come to her aid if need be, but she pushed it back. She didn’t use magic anymore. Not since Neal.

 

Standing her ground, Emma straightened up and turned back to face Noodle, whose head was tilted down in shame.

 

“I’m very sorry. It was incredibly rude of me. Please accept my apologies.” 

 

She tried her best to express the sincerity of her statement, but while Noodle may have perked up a little, the man standing directly beside her just continued to watch her.  _ Too close _ . He was too close. She was forced to ball her fists up to keep her magic under control, something she hadn’t had to do in years. 

 

Something about being on the Jolly Roger had sparked something in her, something long dormant. Emma wasn’t sure if it was the unease she felt as being in a new situation with men that were very likely cold blooded killers, or if it were perhaps a side effect of being in such close proximity to another source of magic. She’d felt it the minute she’d boarded. The ship itself, every square inch of each wood panel, was enchanted. It thrummed to life under her feet as if sensing that she understood it, that she could feel it. Like it had a reason to awaken after years of sleep.

 

And then there was the captain of the vessel. She’d felt a warmth when she’d caught sight of his eyes the night before in the last vestiges of light. It had been intoxicating in a way, and Emma had been certain that it was just a primal reaction. Something had awoken with her as well, not having known the touch of a man in eight years. But now, having felt the Jolly, she wasn’t so sure. The sensation was almost identical, more visceral than a simple infatuation with a pretty face.

 

That was perhaps the most terrifying part. Not the company around her, not her fate in a new place. No. What bothered Emma was the way he called to her, the way her magic screamed to be released around him. And for that very reason, she’d have to avoid him at all costs.

 

“Miss?”

 

When Emma looked up Noodle was already fifteen feet ahead of her.

 

“Don’t worry about it Noodle. I’d be _ happy _ to give her the tour.”

 

Emma looked up to find the large man still within touching distance. She watched as he walked  across the middeck to a hatch. Emma followed. The staircase that descended to the main deck was barely anything more than a small ladder and she struggled to get down the steps with her satchel. 

 

As he led her through a small compartment filled with hammocks, through a galleyway into a room with cannons, Emma tried to memorize the route. There were so many twists and turns and she was fairly certain that she was beyond the point of help. They descended more stairs into a hold with more than a dozen large barrels labeled rum before climbing back up another ladder. By the time they’d arrived in the small room she’d be calling home for the next few months, her satchel had been torn as well as part of her dress.

 

Her tour guide said nothing as he left, leaving Emma on her own, still unsure of his name. The room wasn’t awful by any standards. She’d slept in much worse and wasn’t going to complain, but it was closed off with no natural lighting of its own. There was enough ambient lighting from the hallway outside to find a lamp, but beyond that, there was no way to tell what time of day it was.

 

The first mate had a rather eclectic sense of style. The walls were adorned with paintings of white and grey mice. The table’s housed a plate full of different cheeses, but it was the stack of letters at the foot of his bed that truly surprised her. Each one started of “Dear Mom.” Sentimentality had been the last thing she’d expected. 

 

Sensing that she was invading his privacy, Emma bundled the letters and placed them in a drawer for safe keeping. She’d briefly considered unpacking her own belongings, but if felt weird to make herself at home in another person’s space. 

 

She stayed there in his room for what felt like hours, days even, unsure of her place on the ship. Part of the arrangement had been that she would teach the ship’s medic how to make and use her ointments, but no one on board really seemed in need of help. They also clearly weren’t happy that she was there, so she hid away just as she had so many times before in her life, hoping to fade into the background.

 

* * *

 

He’d been surprised to say the least when he saw her standing on the docks. Based on their interaction the night before, he’d been certain that he’d have to resort to violence or trickery to bring her aboard. Yet there she stood, willingly joining him. But something had been off. She hadn’t had the same level of fierceness about her, and he found himself wondering why. If he had done or said something to upset her in some way.

 

But the realization that he cared about her opinion of him in anyway bothered him. She was only supposed to be a means to an end, so he’d put on the mask that he’d worn so well for years, took on his Hook persona, and boasted about his ship. She seemed unimpressed, though, and it irked him that it once again made him care about what she thought of him.

 

Hoping to create some distance, he’d instructed his least assuming crew member to show her around. Noodle had come to him three years before, pleading for a chance to prove himself, and Milah had taken pity on him. His hands made it difficult for him to complete most of the tasks needed, but, if nothing else, he was able to swab the decks. 

 

He was the man he most trusted around Emma, so when he saw the man still on deck when he emerged from his quarters ten minutes later without her, he was irate.

 

“Mr. Noodle,” Killian growled out. “Did I, or did I not, assign you a task.”

 

“Yes, sir, but-”

 

“But  _ nothing _ . When I give you an order, I expect it to be carried out.”

 

“I was try’n ta, Captain, but then Jukes said he’d take her instead.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bill Jukes emerge from below deck, alone, and smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

 

“Mr. Jukes. I trust my guest was seen to her accommodations without incidence.”

 

It was a warning, not only to Jukes, but the other crew members. Emma Swan may have been simply the key to getting his Milah back, but she would not be otherwise harmed.

 

“I promise you, Captain, she’s safely in Smee’s quarters as we speak.”

 

There was something about the way he said it, not quite a lie, but not the whole truth. It set Killian’s teeth on edge. He was about to make a formal announcement when one of the men interrupted him. Had it not been his quartermaster, a man essential to the functioning of the ship, he would have disciplined him then and there.

 

“Captain, no disrespect intended, but it’s going to take some time to get used to the idea of a new mistress aboard the Jolly. Milah was good to us, and some of the men feel that her presence so soon-”

 

“Let me stop you right there, Mr. Teynte. What happens aboard  _ my _ ship, and who comes aboard  _ my _ ship is  _ my _ business only.” Killian turned to address to look over the rest of the crew before turning back to Ed. “My reasons are my own and I’ll not have any man aboard this ship question me. So you may want to think about where your loyalties lie.”

 

It was said to Ed Teynte, but meant for everyone, and when they stepped away while he shouted, he knew his message was getting through. He turned back to everyone.

 

“So men, do your loyalties lie to your Captain, or to a whore? Because if it’s the latter, you’ll find the plank right over there.”

 

It made him sick to speak of Milah in such a way, but he needed the men to step back into line and let Milah go, at least temporarily.

 

“To the captain,” the men began chanting and Killian relaxed, feeling in control once again.

 

“Good, now get back to work.”

 

The men began scrambling once again to ready the ship in time to the tide to det off. Once they were back out in open water, Killian remained at the helm for another hour, watching for any further discourse from his men. Initially, he’d considered just wandering from port to port, biding his time with Emma. He needed her to fall in love with him, and that would take time, but the longer he was around her, the more guilt he felt. Emma seemed like a genuinely decent person. He was already committed to breaking her heart, the least he could do was fulfill his promise to deliver her to a place where the pain would stop.

 

The uneasiness was getting to him, so he decided to distract himself. He called one of his lower ranked crewmen over to take the helm, and called out to his senior crew to join him in his quarters. 

 

One by one, six men filled in and sat themselves around the only table in the room. His senior crew had been with him since the beginning, since he called for mutiny and changed out the flags, with the exception of Mr. Smee, who came to him soon after. 

 

Smee had a way with procuring hard to find objects and Killian found that his usefulness outweighed his more annoying traits. Edward Teynte had been the quartermaster under Liam’s command as well. George Scourie had been well on his way to becoming an actual doctor, but about half way through his courses, rumors of a brewing war began, and Scourie had felt the need to answer his King’s call. He joined as an enlisted crewman, but as he was the only man with medical training, Killian soon promoted him to ship’s doctor.

 

The remaining men had become Killian’s muscle. They were dedicated and loyal, but over the years, each man had taken steps to further alienate themselves from the crown. Robert Mullin’s still looked the same, but had built a considerable amount of muscle considering the lank frame he’d begun with. Robert Starkey, on the other hand, had grown a significant amount of facial hair, sporting a proper pirates mustache. Jukes, on the other hand hand, had made himself a canvas of sorts, getting a new tattoo at nearly every port they docked at. His ears had more holes than the Jolly had cannon hatches. 

 

“None of this is to leave this room. Is that understood?” Killian watched as each man nodded his head before continuing. “I am aware that some members have taken issue with me bringing Miss Swan aboard. Before any of you ask, she is not here as my concubine.”

 

All of the men turned to look at each other in confusion, as if there had been no other consideration for why she was there. It irked him that people would assume her to merely be a source of physical enjoyment at night.

 

“We are being paid a considerable amount of money by a third party to deliver her to The Mysterious Island.”

 

It was Smee that spoke up. “But, Captain. Why would any of that be a secret from the rest of the crew?”

 

“Miss Swan is unaware of the situation, and it is vital that she remains that way. As of now, she is under the impression that we have a made a trade. Safe passage for knowledge.”

 

It was Tentey who spoke next.

 

“And what knowledge does she think she’s giving us?”

 

“I’ve seen her first hand. She has a way with healing even the most ill of people. For the length of the voyage, she’ll be working with you, Mr. Scourie, teaching you how to make herbal remedies that I’m sure you never learned in school.”

 

“Aye, Sir.”

 

Killian spoke to his men for a few more minutes before dismissing them. He needed some time to compose himself and knew that his men would watch over the rest of the crew in his stead. He paced for a few minutes before his eyes landed on wall, on a small painting of Liam. It had been commissioned before the Jewel of the Realm had taken her inaugural journey with the Elder Jones as captain. After he passed, Killian had been unable to remove it, unwilling to let that part of his brother go.

 

Seeing Liam’s face watching him brought a flood of emotions. He knew that Liam wouldn’t have approved of what he was doing, he probably wouldn’t have even approved of Killian’s relationship with Milah given that she was still technically married. Liam had always been so prim and proper and believed in good form, and what Killian was doing to Emma was beyond any of that. 

 

For the first time in seven years, Killian removed the painting, turning it on it’s side and placing it inside one of his cabinets. He couldn’t bear to have a daily reminder of how far he’d fallen, not anymore.

 

Upset and needing a distraction, Killian went back on deck and took over the helm. He remained there for hours, concentrating on keeping his ship on course. They’d have to dock at the port of Athena to resupply before they could head further south towards Emma’s final destination. He’d become completely lost in his task, not realizing how late it had become.

 

The sun was beginning to set over the water, signaling the it was dinner time. He’d yet to see Emma since she’d been shown to her room and he doubted that she’d eaten anything all day, just as he hadn’t. He called out to Smee, telling him that he’d be taking his supper in his quarters with Miss Swan.

 

 

She’d have to get used to the crew at some point, but some of them were an acquired taste and he didn’t want to overwhelm her on the first day. He also needed to establish a relationship with her, or at least the foundations of one. He hoped that taking their meal in his room, on his terms, would help him keep control on the situation. The pull he’d felt the night before had come rushing back as soon as he’d seen her that morning. He’d actually felt her presence before he’d even seen her, and when their eyes had locked, all he had been able to do was stare.

 

He needed the metaphorical higher ground to keep his wits about him. Before setting off to his quarters, he commanded Jukes to retrieve her for their meal. Once in his room, the first thing he did was strip himself of his clothes, replacing them with fresh ones. He also chose not to replace the vest, leaving the top three buttons of his undershirt undone. 

 

Smee soon appeared with a tray, with service for two, long before he heard Emma tentatively knocking on his door. She looked vexed and he momentarily wondered what had upset her, but when he saw her eyes drift down, taking him in before snapping back up to his, he saw an opportunity and seized it.

 

“Oh, don’t feel as if you need to stand on ceremony here.”

 

He bit his bottom lip and Emma’s cheeks flushed.


	9. 8

 

She’d almost been asleep when the tattooed man appeared at her door, not even sparing a knock before he entered. He told her that the Captain had requested her presence for dinner, and while the thought of being confined to a room alone with him gave her pause, she couldn’t deny the way her stomach rumbled at the mention of food.

 

She followed the still nameless man back through the maze that was the underbelly of Killian’s ship. She was completely lost, trying to count the number of turns they took. When they finally appeared in front of a red wooden door, the man left once more without saying anything. She was still trying to get a sense of him when the door opened and Killian stood before her. 

 

He looked much more laid back without his large leather jacket. Less burdened, taller. Her eyes moved down on their own accord, finding that his shirt was undone and there was a generous about of dark chest hair poking through. Feeling embarrassed for looking, she pulled her eyes back up and met his. And then he spoke, shattering whatever spell she’d been under.

 

She felt her face warm at being caught, but refused to dignify him with a response. Moving into the cabin without waiting for an invitation, she found the table already set with two places. Her stomach chose then to make itself known, only further fueling her embarrassment. Killian chuckled, walking over to join her, pulling the seat out for her. She lifted her brows in challenge.

 

“Now you want to be a gentleman?”

 

“You’re my guest, Swan. It’s only polite. And I’m  _ always _ a gentleman.”

 

“Sure, and you always make deals with strange women?”

 

She watched as he sat back in his chair, his elbow resting on the table, face propped up on two fingers. The lascivious persona was back, and Emma couldn’t help but wonder if he was really just a pirate out for plunder, or if was something else. A defense mechanism. She’d had her own walls and knew well enough what it looked like when someone was trying to distance themselves, to protect themselves.

 

“Only the very attractive ones.”

 

Emma rolled her eyes again, earning herself another laugh from him.

 

“Now, let’s dig in, shall we?”

 

Killian lifted the lid off of the platter in the middle of the table and Emma found herself grimacing, trying to hold back her disgust. Killian, not missing a step stood and walked to the other side of the room. She’d initially been worried that she’d offended him, the same way the night’s menu had offended her nostrils, but he returned with two tumblers in hand and a bottle of amber liquid. He poured them each a healthy dose before taking a seat once again. Emma looked at the glass, taking a whiff, skeptical of what he’d given her.

 

“It’s just rum. What’s the matter? Worried that after a few libations you may find me irresistible?”

 

“Hardly,” Emma grumbled back.

 

“Drink up, Swan. It’ll dull the taste and make the boiled mackerel more palatable.”

 

“So I’m just supposed to get drunk before every meal?”

 

It was Killian’s turn to roll his eyes. 

 

“It’s rude to insult a man’s hospitality. And it won’t garner you any love from the crew either.” 

 

Emma wasn’t sure if it had been meant as a threat or a warning, but she felt properly chagrined.

 

“You should also know that this is what happens on a ship when she nears the end of her supply. You have to make do with what you have.”

 

Emma contemplated his words. She’d read about ships, listened to her parents explain the inner workings, but she’d never given much thought to it beyond the obvious. She’d never considered what it would be like to spend more than a day or two out at sea.

 

“We’re currently on our way to Port Athena. Once there, we’ll replenish all of our stocks, and you’ll see a much larger variety in the meals. From there we’ll continue on south, making port when needed along the way.”

 

Emma nodded, too chastised to say anything. Taking two large gulps of the rum he’d presented her with, Emma straightened up in her seat and helped herself to one of the mackerels in the center of the table. Killian’s eye were on her as she took her first bite and forced herself not to spit it back out. Each bite after was followed by a generous helping of rum.

 

She was feeling a strong buzz by the time the meal was over. They’d spent most of it in companionable silence. Emma hadn’t known what to say, and she had been fairly certain that he was staying quiet because he was still upset with her. Her mind was mentally filling in the silence for her. The rum had a significant effect as her mind kept interjecting thought about how attractive he was. It took all over her remaining will power not to mentally undress him as her eyes followed a silver chain. She couldn’t tell what charms it held as they were nestled just inside his shirt, but her imagination was all too happy to fill in the gaps.

 

Unfortunately, she’d been so focused on not thinking about how he’d look with a few more buttons undone, that she’d lost the ability to focus her mouth, and eventually words starting pouring out without her permission.

 

“You know,” she started, almost falling out of her seat, “you’re not such a bad guy.”

 

He looked amused.

 

“Oh, Swan. Do continue.”

 

“Well, for starters, you have Noodle.”

 

“Perhaps you’ve had enough for the evening.” She watched as his demeanor shifted.

 

“No, no. I don’t mean it like that,” she slurred out as she waved him off with her hand. “I just meant that no one else would have taken him on with his disability. He probably would have starved, but you saw something useful in him and saved him. I’ve seen something similar in a man’s legs before, but never it the wrist. It’s actually quite fascinating.”

 

Killian clenched his jaw at her babbling.

 

“You’re pretty when you’re upset like that.”

 

Emma immediately snapped her mouth shut when she’d realized what she’d said.The rum had loosened her up more than she’d anticipated, and the next time he’d suggested that she’d had enough it was with a smile on his face and a pink tinge to his cheeks.

 

“I think it’s time that we got you do bed.”

 

“No, I didn’t mean-”

 

“Relax. I just meant that I think it’s time I escorted you back you your quarters so you can sleep off the rum.”

 

“Just sleep?”

 

She was mortified sure that he’d meant something more.

 

“Yes, just sleep. Gentleman, remember?”

 

“Okay, that’s- Yes. That’s good.”

 

Killian stood from his seat and offered her his hand, helping her up. She was a bit wobbly and when his hand and hook came around her waist to steady her, she nearly choked on air. It was the closest to him she’d been and that indescribable feeling was back. 

 

_ Magnetism _ .

 

He smelled of the salt and sea, which just a hint of leather. It was intoxicating, and Emma had to shake her head to clear her thoughts back to something more innocuous. His eyes appeared a bit darker as well.

 

Emma didn’t wait for him to do or say anything, turning away and heading for the door immediately. She wrenching the door open and turned to go back above deck. 

 

“Swan, where are you going?”

 

“Back to my room before I can’t embarrass myself any further.”

 

“Okay, but your room is this way.”

 

She watched as his hand pointed to his left, down a hallway she hadn’t noticed before.

 

“No, it’s down that hatch, through the cargo hold, past the galley-”

 

“What are you on about? It’s up here two doors on the right.”

 

Emma came back to where he was standing, allowing him to lead her. Sure enough, the second door on the right opened up to her room. The whole time he’d been less that ten steps away. 

 

“Son of a bitch.”

 

Killian cocked his head to the side, his eyes lit in genuine concern, but Emma was too wrapped up in her anger to notice.

 

“Is there something wrong?

 

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

 

With that, Emma stomped into the room and slammed the door behind her.

 

 

* * *

  
  


Killian watched as the door slammed shut in his face and wondered how everything had become so turned around. The evening had started off well enough, but soon enough he’d put his foot in his mouth and chastised her for something that wasn’t even her fault. He was only trying to protect her though. While it was fine for her to dine in his quarters initially, at some point both of them would be expected to dine with the crew, and if she showed the same reaction in front of them she’d be met with nothing but hostility. Still, he probably could have approached the situation with more caution and not made her feel as if she needed to escape in the rum.

 

But then things had flipped again and she’d completely surprised him when she’d talked about Noodle. He’d expected her to mock him, as Milah originally had, saying that he had no place on the ship, but the observation had actually been about  _ him _ instead, and  _ his _ generosity. That was the first time anyone had seen him as anything more than a pirate in years and it had been completely unexpected. 

 

And then she’d told him that she found him  _ attractive _ . It had been obvious that the alcohol had loosened her lips, but he was fairly certain that the words she spoke were still the truth. And the worst part was that he’d felt a sense of warmth at her confession, and a reciprocation. He needed to get her back to her quarters before he did something stupid like kiss her. 

 

She’d been unsteady walking and he’d been cautious enough to walk close enough that he could reach for her waist again if needed, but not so close that he’d once again be able to smell the cinnamon scent in her hair. But she’d slammed the door in his face, leaving him completely vexed. She’d still been on his mind when he returned to his cabin later after seeing to the night crew, where he was met by the sight of Milah. The guilt had been immediate and overwhelming. Her charcoal portrait was still on the top of his desk from the night before, meant to be a reminder of the task at hand, but he’d allowed himself to be knocked off course by a pretty blonde distraction.

 

He went to sleep with a pain in his heart for the way he’d allowed himself to betray his love. He’d tossed and turned, his dreams filled with visions of Milah disappearing as a cloud of black dust into the wind, replaced by Emma. He gave up on sleep long before dawn, going upstairs to the helm. At midday he sent Smee to check on Emma, who was, according to his first mate, still highly hungover. A breakfast meal had been sent to her room, and when she didn’t emerge for lunch, he assumed that she’d fallen back asleep.

 

When the sun began to set, he sent another meal to her room, choosing to dine with his men instead, creating as much distance as possible between the two of them. He wasn’t ready to face her again yet, wasn’t ready for the tugging sensation he felt every time she was near him.

 

Over the next ten days as they sailed to Athena, he pawned her off on his men more than he knew he ought to have, but he’d still be plagued by the dreams, and as a sailor he’d taken it as a warning, and being the superstitious man he was, he wasn’t willing to tempt Milah’s fate, or his self control. Emma for her part hadn’t seemed too bothered by it, as she hadn’t sought an audience with him. 

 

Some of the men seemed to have warmed up to her. Scourie demanded most of her time during the day, and actually seemed quite eager to learn from her. He’d told Killian just the night before how fascinating Emma’s methods were. Apparently herbal cures had always been a highly guarded secret by healers like her, knowing that their livelihoods often depended on it. If everyone knew how to make remedies from plants in the forest, the healers would be considered useless. Yet Emma, had been more than willing to open up to Scourie, further cementing in Killian’s mind what a kind person she was.

 

It only made him stay even further away, knowing that some part of him saw her as anything more than the key to Milah’s freedom. But at night, when she was on the deck, either watching the sun fall over the waves or looking up to the heavens and counting the stars, he couldn’t help the way his gaze fell to her. Nor could he help the odd tinge of jealousy that fell over him as the most recent to join crew member, and Italian man by the name of ‘Cecco’, would lean over the rail next to her. Killian could never hear their conversations, but he’d seen the blush in her cheeks more than once.

 

Even Jukes had stopped going out of his way to torment her. At dinner the night before, her first with the full crew down in the galley, she’d sat at the other end of the table from him, nestled in between Cecco and Scourie. Her smile had been infectious, and the moral at the meal had been higher than he’d seen it in ages. Whatever they’d been speaking about had left her laughing, and she’d barely touched any of the ale in front of her, making him wonder if it was really the meal that had upset her on the first night, or just him, and her gaze hadn’t turned to him once that night.

 

As they’d pulled up and docked at Athena, Killian had sent his men to work. He and Teynte had set into the village to barter for food and supplies to last them roughly a month until they could reach another port along the way. He’d left some men behind to check over the ship and tent to any maintenance, while Smee had been given strict instructions not to let Emma leave the ship. He’d said it was for her own safety when she protested, but truth be told, he wasn’t altogether sure that she wouldn't bolt given the chance. They weren’t all that far from the Northern Isles, but they had put enough space between them and Emma’s old home that she might think it far enough.

 

She’d been livid with him, rightly so, stating she couldn’t properly teach George how to heal people if she couldn’t show him what the ingredients looked like, or where he could find them. But Killian had insisted she stay put, and that she could go out at their next stop. The exchange had been loud enough that he had been heard by the entire crew, and given that it was the first time they’d even spoken in over a week, tensions had been higher than usual. He’d never argued with Milah in that way, and he wasn’t used to someone being complete insubordinate to him on his own vessel. She’d stormed off to her room and slammed the door again though, and he’d left Smee in charge along with two more sailors to keep watch over her.

 

He must have been more upset than he’d realized because halfway through their walk he heard Teynte try to comfort him, saying that she’d come around and wouldn’t stay mad for too long. Killian feigned indifference, knowing that it shouldn’t matter, but inside he was torn, unsure if it was because he was failing to seduce her, or if was because he was slowly allowing himself to become seduce by her.

 

They’d finished their business, and by the time they’d returned to the ship, the first of the supplies had arrived. Killian left Teynte to oversee the deliveries while he checked in with Smee who had assured him that Emma hadn’t left her room. He’d even tried knocking to apologize, but when she hadn’t answered, he’d left, telling himself that Captain Hook wasn’t a man to grovel.

 

As night descended, he posted a few more crew men to watch over the Jolly as the rest of the crew, himself included, took to a local tavern. The ale flowed and gold coins were traded easily. Many of his men had found a lady to purchase, Cecco being no exception, although Killian was fairly certain that no money had been exchanged for that privilege. Midnight had befallen them, and Killian had decided to call it a night in order to return to the ship and attempt to get a full night’s rest before setting off once more at dawn.

 

 

* * *

 

Fury. That was the only way to describe the way she’d felt at learning that she was essentially a prisoner on Killian’s ship. When she’d agreed to their terms, she hadn’t realized that she’d be conceding  _ fully _ to his authority as ship’s captain. Her arguments had been sound and reasonable, but still, he’d forbade her from leaving and she’d had to run to her room before he could see the tears building in her eyes at the frustration.

 

She’d heard him return to the ship. He’d been barking out orders for the better part of ten minutes, and she couldn’t help but think that his foul mood served him right given his behaviour. Then there had been a knock on the door and his voice on the other side. He hadn’t sounded carefree, but he hadn’t sounded remorseful either, so Emma had continued to hide away like a child until she’d known for certain that he’d gone.

 

Night had fallen when she stepped up to the deck again. She hadn’t made any moves to exit the ship, but a few crewmembers were eyeing her wearily as she moved about, taking in what she could see of the village. The fresh air had done her own mood wonders, but she was still troubled. 

 

He’d been cold to her, avoiding her since the first night when she’d made a complete fool of herself and she couldn’t blame him for it. He’d been flirty, but she’d figured out that it was just a defense mechanism, so when she’d involuntarily reciprocated, he hadn’t expected it, and it had clearly been unwanted.

 

She’d wanted to approach him and apologize, but she hadn’t been able to figure out what to say to him. As far as she knew they didn’t have any common ground to bond over. She hadn’t really known anything about him, and what little she’d gleaned from their dinner hadn’t informed her of anything helpful. So when she walked past his cabin on the way to her quarters, she couldn’t help her curiosity.

 

She slipped in with the intention of finding something that she could use to reach out to him, just something small to make the remainder of the voyage more bearable, but the more she looked, the more drawn in she had become. She hadn’t realized the night before how vast his book collection was, containing collections of maritime history, mythology, pure literature. He even had an entire shelf dedicated to personal journals.

 

She knew better, she really did, but her need to understand him was too great, and slowly her hand shifted. She was no longer running her fingers along the spines of the journals, but instead, her finger reached out, tipping the top of one towards her until she could fully grab it. It was old, the pages yellowed at the edges. The handwriting inside was methodically perfect. All of the spaces between lines exact. She recognized the style - it was the same that was taught in her father’s navy.

 

She set it back and moved to the next one, which was crafted with just as much care. Looking at the cover, she noted the name ‘Liam Jones’ has been etched in. The name sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until twenty minutes of exploration later, when she came across a painting of a man with striking blue eyes and golden brown curls, that she saw the insignia on his shoulder. He’d only been ‘Lieutenant Jones’ when she’d met him all of those years before, and a terror seized at her gut.

 

He’d seen her in the castle, knew that she was the princess. Had he told Killian? Is that why he’d sought her out when she’d taken so many precautions to not be found? She hadn’t sensed deceit in him when she’d asked him why he was helping her, but she’d been blinded by a pretty face before. Frantically, she started searching the rest of his room for any signs of his real intentions.

 

She’d nearly torn the place apart when she came across a charcoal drawing of a woman she’d known long before. The woman who nearly destroyed her life. Milah. Her hands began to tremble, it had all been a trap. Killian had learned about her from Liam, and teamed up with Milah to get revenge. She could feel her magic, desperate to defend her. But before she could even consider releasing it for the first time in eight years, the door opened and she came face to face with Killian.

 

She’d seen the confusion etched on his face, followed by rage when he saw the portrait still in her hands, slightly crumpled.

 

“What are you doing in here?”

 

She could tell he was trying to hold back his temper, but she was too angry to care.

 

“You have no right to question me. Did you know? Did you know this whole time who I was?”

 

She was screaming like a madwoman, but he was unaffected.

 

“You have no right to be in here.”

 

His eyes drifted to her hand, and when he saw the portrait of Milah, slightly smudged, he snapped, snatching the drawing from her and ordering her out of his cabin. She’d tried to run, to get to the village, but the crewmen were still under orders not to let her leave.

 

Her magic continued to call to her, but she’d tried her best to hold it at bay. The last time she’d used it, Milah had been there and everything had fallen apart. She couldn’t let herself lose control like that again. Never again. Unable to leave the ship for the time being, Emma ran into the belly of the ship, searching for the most isolated place she could find. She needed to get somewhere quiet. Somewhere where she couldn’t hurt anyone. Where she couldn’t get hurt. As she continued her descent, just past the fully stocked supply hold, she found it.

 

A small area, only large enough to house a small torn cot on the floor. Metal bars separated it from the rest of the ship. She crawled in, closed the gate behind her, shut away from the world. The cot was barely better than sleeping on the damp floor, and the air was dank, suffocating. And as she laid there, trying to even out her breathing and contain the burning sensation of her magic, she felt it’s anger and being imprisoned inside of her, just as she was on the ship.

 

No one came to look for her, not that she’d been surprised. No one care. No one ever did. At one point, she’d been certain that she’d heard a rat scouring across the cargo hold. It wasn’t ideal, but she’d kept reminding herself she she’d had it worse and survived. She’d figure out a way to get away from Killian later, without her magic.

 

It was the only thing that helped her sleep that night.

 

 


	10. 9

 

Pain. 

 

All consuming pain. After he'd found Emma in his room riffling through his things, he'd kicked her out, and proceeded to consume an entire bottle of rum. Now he was paying for it in the form of a throbbing headache. Judging by the amount of sunlight in his cabin, it was mid morning. He'd stood and looked out the window to see that they were still docked, having missed the preferable morning tide.

 

Begrudgingly he rose from his bed, kicking over an empty bottle in the process. It hadn’t broken, but the clanking sound it made when it rolled into his dresser only further exacerbated his brewing headache. 

 

Slowly the events of the previous evening had started to come back to him. He’d gone to the pub with his men, hoping to slate their frayed nerves with a pouch worth of ale. They been quarantined at the port where he’d located Emma, and he’d known that asking them to stay on bored once again could prove catastrophic for his position as ship's captain. They respected him, but respect only went so far with pirates. 

 

And then there had been the issue of Emma. She’d been furious with him, and he’d never been more grateful of someone not possessing magic as he had been in that moment. He told her that it was for her safety, and it was true to a point. The seaside village wasn’t exactly the most calm of ports, and the tavern that his men preferred to frequent carried a rowdy type. Fights were prevalent, and he’d been worried that another ship’s crew might see Emma and wish to claim her as their own, for less than decent purposes. 

 

The truth of the matter though, was that his reasons had been much more selfish. As hard as he’d tried to deny it to himself, she was beautiful. Angelic even, and he’d fought of the urge on more than one occasion to reach out for a few loose strand of her hair, eager to tug at them. Eager to see if her eyes felt the same burning fire that he was certain lit his. It had been hell on earth trying to stay away from her, and he’d chastised himself on more than one occasion for it. He’d tried to convince himself that it was only because he’d missed Milah, missed the warmth she’d provided daily, and the release she’d given him nightly. He’d grown accustomed to the intimate physical relationship they shared and his body was just reacting as any normal man’s would.

 

And that’s why she really couldn’t come with him, because he wasn’t sure that he’d have the strength to pull away from her in an intoxicated state. She’d bewitched his body, and if she’d been there, he’d been certain he’d have acted inappropriately. Killian had wondered more than once that night if he’d even be able to accomplish his task. To seduce her, without falling himself. He'd also wondered if he’d be able to figure out another way to save Milah if he just cut his loses right away, dropping Emma off to figure her own way. She was strong and independent, and he’d had no doubts that she’d have figured out something for herself, yet the idea of letting her go made his gut twist, and he’d been too weak to contemplate it anymore.

 

And then that bloody bar wench had shown up, straddling his lap in the middle of his dice game, whispering naughty things in his ears. Things that once upon a time would have had him renting a room right away and taking her to bed. But instead he’d been disgusted. Her blonde had had been too dark, her smile slightly crooked. She wasn’t the woman he wanted, so he’d pushed her away, telling her maybe next time. What he hadn’t realized until three more rolls later, what that he hadn’t turned her down because of the woman that had shared his bed for years. He’d turned her down because she was a poor imitation of the woman currently aboard his ship.

 

The guilt had nearly consumed him. Hoping to drown the demons out, he’d purchased the bottle to go and carried it back to his ship. He’d checked in with the crew still aboard the ship, telling them to make sure everyone made it back before morning, and that they’d be shipping out at first light.

 

But then he’d opened the door, and she’d been standing in the middle of his cabin, clutching the portrait he’d done of Milah. It had been hidden under some charts on his desk, and as he looked around at the open drawers, it had become apparent that she’d been riffling through all of his belongings. 

 

Then her hand formed a fist. Milah’s portrait balled up and crinkled, and he’d snapped.

 

“What are you doing in here?”

 

Her face contorted, and she’d yelled back.

 

“You have no right to question me. Did you know? Did you know this whole time who I was?”

 

It only fueled his rage, her having the audacity to rummage through his belongs and not even pretending to feel remorse.

 

“You have no right to be in here.”

 

He’d growled at her, nearly ripped the page from her hand in his haste to reclaim it. Then he’d thrown her out and proceeded to finish of the bottle in only three swallows before stumbling around his room. He’d done his best to straighten the portrait, but as his hand drifted over it, it only smudged more. Then his eyes had caught the corner of a framed painting. Liam’s painting. It had been the last straw, and he's taken a discarded tumblr glass and thrown it with all of his might against the door.

 

Finally, he’d collapsed on the floor in a drunken stupor.

 

He’d almost made it to the door when a sharp rasp had sounded from the other side. He’d mumbled something that sounded like ‘enter’ and the door slowly creaked open, revealing his first mate.

 

“Sorry to bother you captain, but I heard movement and thought you might be awake now.”

 

Killian could only nod.

 

“We’ve missed the morning tide, but with the full moon, there should be a strong enough one later this evening to help up sail out in a few hours.

 

“And why did we not leave this morning.”

 

“Captain, we never leave without you-”

 

Once again, Killian found himself second guessing why he’d appointed Mr. Smee to the position of next in command.

 

“Am I to believe the crew incapable of sailing this vessel? Do I need to look into replacing the crew, Mr. Smee?”

 

“No- My apologies Captain. I merely didn’t want to presume that you were ready to leave without your order sir.”

 

“Very well.” Killian rubbed his temples, trying to soothe the tension. “And what of our guest?”

 

“Sir?”

 

“Have you seen her today?”

 

Killian wasn’t particularly keen on seeing her himself, but needed to know that she wasn’t going to be a flight risk.

 

“We assumed that she’d slept in here with you, sir.”

 

“And what, prey tell, would have given you that idea?”

 

“My- Her bed hasn’t been slept in and she hasn’t been on deck at all today.”

 

“What?”

 

Killian stood up fast, too fast, feeling the pricking of black fading over his field of vision. Using the chair to brace himself until the darkness receded, he attempted to ground himself, to calm himself.

 

“Well then I suggest you find her!”

 

Smee had clearly sensed Killian’s frustrations, running for the first time since they’d met. When Killian emerged from his quarters, there was a frenzy on board as the men all searched for Emma. Canary Robb, the most sure footed crew member on the ropes aside from Killian himself, ascended to the crew nest right away, but called out to tell him that there was no sight of her.

 

After a thorough search of the galley, the crew quarters, the cargo hold, and everywhere else that Killian could think of that she might have went, he began to panic.

 

_ Did you know? Did you know this whole time who I was? _

 

He hadn’t realized her words as she’d screamed them at him, only focused on his own anger. 

 

_ Did you know this whole time who I was? _

 

Did she realize why he had really sought her out? Did she know that he was aligned with Regina?

 

He felt his breathing pick up along with his heart rate. Emma wasn’t on the ship, meaning she’d had to have gone into town, or worse, beyond the village. She’d had a full night's head start on them too. Dividing his crew, he ordered them to search every place that she might have sought refuge, to turn over every tavern and inn until they’d found her. He himself went to the edge of town looking for any signs that someone had recently used the pathways. The road was cobblestone though, and lacked any footprints.

 

They were docked at the mainland, and it was surrounded by an endless trail of forests to hide in. If she’d gone past the village, she’d be lost to him. He made his way back to town to find more than one unhappy shop owner yelling at his crew. When Mullin’s shook his head, Killian realized that it was too late. Emma was gone, as was his only hope to save Milah. And he wasn’t sure which bothered him more.

 

Killian order his crew back to the ship and to ready the ship to set sail. The evening tide had come just as Smee had predicted, and soon they set off, still on their original heading for no other reason than Killian hadn’t been able to bring himself to set a new destination. He stood behind the helm, pushing all of the thoughts from his mind, refusing to dwell on the things over which he had no control.

 

The stars were high in the sky. Killian had refused to switch over when the night crew came up for their shifts. He’d needed something to do, something to occupy his thoughts. But the longer he stayed out there, the harder it was to focus his mind, and eventually it drifted, wondering what Emma was doing. If she was safe. He watched the sky, hoping for some sort of guidance, keeping a weather eye out for the north star. The one he’d wish upon so many times as a young lad. The one he’d wished upon right up until Liam died. That’s when he’d realized how foolish he’d been thinking that a random star could have any power over his destiny.

 

Yet, even then, he couldn't help but to feel a longing for before. For when he’d been young and naive, and  _ hopeful _ . And then he’d done it. For the first time since Liam had passed, he’d wished upon the star. His wish had been vague, just asking for a sign of what to do. He felt so foolish, yet as he made the wish, he’d been nearly certain that it had glowed just a little bit brighter.

 

He wasn’t sure if it had meant anything, or if it had simply been a figment of his overtired mind. Calling out for one of his crew to take over, Killian made his way back to his quarters, hearing the faintest whisper of snoring. Smee had clearly recommandeered his room. A black satchel sat outside the door, and Killian had recognized it as Emma’s. She’d been in such a hurry to get away from him, so afraid of Regina that she hadn’t even grabbed it in her haste to escape.

 

He’d picked it up and brought in into his own quarters. There had been a tiny bit of guilt as he went through her things, even though she’d done the same the evening before. It felt like an invasion of her privacy despite the knowledge that it was no longer hers. For the most part it just contained clothing and what he assumed were medicinal tins. There was the odd book or two of fairy tales. Even a few coins. Nothing that could tell him anything about her.

 

As he placed the items back into the satchel though, he heard a noise. Something small had slipped out of his hand and onto the floor. He knelt down and found a silver necklace etched with a swan in flight. 

 

It looked expensive enough, something beyond the means of a healer’s purse. The chain alone would have been enough to barter enough stock to last the ship two months at sea. It only further fueled his curiosity at how she came to live on that small island and what the Evil Queen wanted with her. There was a mystery about her, and in that moment, he missed her. The girl he hadn’t even known.

 

He heard one of his crewmen shout about a shooting star, an omen that many sailer’s believed would send them immeasurable wealth soon. Killian hadn’t cared though. In that moment, money wasn’t what he was after. He gripped the small pendant in his hand, and as he held onto it, it became a lifeline of sorts. Something that connected him to her, and once again he felt that inexplicable pull, just as he had when he’d first met her.

 

The magnetism. It was strong, stronger than he’d expected given how far away she should have been. Yet still, the feeling called to him, and he felt himself being pulled further and further down into the hull of the ship. A place he never went. A place where few men did as it was often filled with a thin layer of water and musk, and the occasional rat. The feeling grew stronger, and he let it guide him to an often forgotten part of the ship. He preferred switch justice, dealing with offending crewmen on the spot. He’d had little use for the brig, and even less reason to visit it. Yet as his feet approached, he couldn’t help but notice the small frame of Emma balled up on an old worn mattress and his heart nearly broke watching her like that. 

 

“Swan?”

 

He’d tried to keep his words low and calm as not to startle her, but even he couldn’t deny the way his voice shook. She didn’t respond, and had in not been for her shivering, he’d had assumed the worst. He called out to her again, as he pulled back the metal gate that sealed in prisoners. His hand has hesitated only briefly, itching to brush some of the hair off of her face, but she’d shifted further away, and all he could do was bring his hand back to his side.

 

“Who is she to you?”

 

He flinched, not sure how to explain.

 

“Someone from my past.”

 

 

* * *

 

It hadn’t been a complete lie. There was some truth to his words, but Emma could sense that there was something hidden, twisted in the phrasing. She’d been too tired to care though, too defeated. Whatever he had planned for her, she’d weather it, just as she had everything else in her life before it. 

 

“Why’d you seek me?”

 

“I needed someone to teach George-”

 

Lie.

 

“No. I mean, why did you come to the Isles looking for me. There are plenty of healers in much more pleasant places.” She turned over to face him, wanted to see his eyes as she spoke to him. “So why, of all the people in this world, did you come looking for  _ me _ _?_ ”

 

He took a deep breath before responding.

 

“Swan, you have no reason to trust me. Believe me. I know what people say about pirates, but I promise you, it’s not my wish to hurt you.”

 

Once more, only a partial truth hidden away. He’d chosen his words carefully, and she wondered what exactly he was hiding.

 

When she turned away again, she heard his feet shuffle before the thin mattress below her shifted. She’d refused to look at him, but was well aware that he was sitting at her feet, looking away as well.

 

“I wasn’t always a pirate you know.”

 

Truth, and unexpected.

 

“I actually used to be in the Royal Navy alongside my brother. We followed our king’s orders, thinking that we were making the world a better place. We thought that we were following an honorable purpose. But the King turned out to be a tyrant, and sent us on a mission that would have killed thousands. My brother paid for it with his life, and that’s when I turned to piracy.”

 

She felt the mattress shift again, but kept her eyes focused on a puddle in the corner of the room. His footsteps paced around the small space she’d claimed as her home.

 

“I don’t know why I told you any of that. I just- I needed you to know that once I was an honorable man. I’ve made mistakes, and I’ve made bad decisions in my life. More than I’d care to count, so I can’t fault you for not trusting me. If you wish to leave, we’ll be making port again in another three weeks.”

 

She could feel the honesty of he words, the sorrow in the way he spoke. There was nothing but pain. Any hints of deception from before were gone, and she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly had happened to his brother. He was one of the few outsiders that she’d met, and although the encounter had been brief, he’d looked strapping and healthy. And whatever it was, it had clearly wrecked the younger of the Jones brothers.

 

It wasn’t enough for her to forgive him though. He’d come looking specifically for her, and after her own history with Milah, she was certain that it couldn’t be a coincidence. He wanted revenge.

 

He didn’t say anything more, didn’t try to convince her of his innocence in whatever the plan was. Instead he simply left. She waited, listened until his footsteps had completely faded before rolling on her back. Her magic wanted nothing more than to engulf the entire ship in flames, to let it and the crew parish in the middle of the ocean. To teach them a lesson. But Emma’s magic had only ever brought her trouble. The same reason Milah had sent Killian to hunt her down. She wouldn’t let it control her again.

 

It was perhaps an hour later when she heard footsteps again. This time is was a man she’d come to know by the name of Mason. He carried with him a tray of food, including breads and fruits. Apparently Killian hadn’t been lying about the change in menu either.

 

“The captain wanted you to eat. Told me I wasn’t to leave until at least half of the food was gone.”

 

Emma wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry from the frustration of being forced to remain healthy for Killian’s plan, or if it was from the compassion he showed her. Nodding towards the man, Emma took the food and began eating. She hadn’t meant to eat more than a bite or two, just something to placate her guard so he’d leave, but with eat bite she only realized just how hungry she had been. She hadn’t eaten the day before, or for however long she’d been there. With no windows and very little ambient light coming through the wood planks above her, she had no way to measure the time.

 

The fruit was fresh and just ripened. Even the bread seemed as if it had just come out of the oven, not from a bakery dozens of miles away. Before she knew it, the tray and cider he’d provided were gone, and he’d collected the tray and disappeared with a small sad smile. 

 

Soon after, Emma had become presented with her next problem. Having not had any food or fluid before, Emma hadn’t had need to use the facilities, but after downing the cider, she suddenly felt the urge. Unfortunately, using the only toilet she knew of on the ship would requiring leaving her makeshift home and dealing with people. Instead, she rummaged around the hull until she found an old wooden bucket. It wasn’t ideal by any means, but she reasoned that she could dump it at night when only the bare minimum of crew would be awake.

 

 

* * *

 

Three weeks had passed. Three long weeks of Emma hiding away in the brig. Killian had made certain that she had meals, and that she was eating them in front of Mason. The last thing he needed was for her to waste away or catch a disease herself. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to visit her again.

 

The emotions that had been stirred that night had caused him more pain than he’d felt in years. Something about her helpless form had made him want to open up to her, and before he knew it, he was telling her about Liam. About his death and for some reason unknown to him, he needed Emma to understand why he was the way he was. That he wasn’t just a brute by choice. She hadn’t been swayed though, obviously still angry with him for trying to deceive her.

 

He’d tried to choose his words wisely as they spoke, feeling the oddest sensation in his core. Lying to her wasn’t an option. Not because he couldn’t, but because he  _ couldn't _ . The idea of it sickened him. She’d gotten under his skin.

 

He’d had one of the men take her satchel down to her as well so she could have fresh clothing, but Mason had reported that she was still in the same outfit. She’d been eating her meals, but looked pale. Mason had even gone so far as to describe her as looking defeated and that Killian needed to do something. He knew that with them only a day away from making port again, she’d be able to get off the ship. To get some fresh air and stretch her legs. He just needed to get her cleaned up first so she didn’t frighten people, or worse, give people the impression that he had treated her poorly. 

 

Plus he knew that he couldn’t stomach to see her that way. He’d had two of the men drag down a large tub. It had been a feat, he was sure. The steps leading to that part of the ship were steep and narrow, as were the passageways. They’d grumbled under their breathes when they’d been tasked with carrying warm buckets of water down as well.

 

He’d waited nearly two hours before going below deck to check on her. He didn’t trust any of his men not to peak, or worse. After calling out to make sure she was decent, he made his way into the brig to check on her, finding himself pleasantly surprised. She’d bathed and washed her hair as well, and put on a dress he’d seen in her satchel. It was wrinkled from being crumpled, but a large improvement over what he’d been expecting to find.

 

“We’ll be making port tomorrow. I thought perhaps you’d like to accompany myself or Mr. Scourie into town for supplies and whatever else you desire.”

 

He wasn’t certain what he’d been expecting her to say or do. She was still angry with him, and what little bit of trust they’d established over there one shared meal had been destroyed. And while he’d be mad at himself for hoping she’d choose to join him, he couldn’t help the sting he felt when she declined his offer, stating that she would write out a list of supplies for the doctor.

 

“Swan, you yourself said that you needed to be there. To explain the differences to Mr. Scourie between some of the plants.”

 

He didn’t want to go so far as to remind her as to what had lead to that piece of information. He didn’t want to remind her of the fight they’d had, the fights - as there had been more than one that night. 

 

“I have a book. I can show him what to look for. He’ll be fine on his own.”

 

“Bloody hell woman. You need to get off this ship. It’s not healthy to spend all of your time down here, alone. You’ll catch a disease.”

 

As he said it, something morphed in her face. The lines became sharper, her eyes slightly fiercer.

 

“I highly doubt that my  _ health  _ will place a factor in whatever fate you have in store for me.”

 

The panic started crawling up under his skin. He felt in in his throat, constricting him. She knew.

 

“What in the world does  _ that _ mean?”

 

“I mean, that you’ve only been telling me half truths since I boarded this ship.” He felt a crackle move through his skin as she spoke, leaving him on edge. “What I  _ mean _ , Captain, is that you have something else planned for me, something far more devious than letting me die of the plague down here.”

 

“Emma-”

 

“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to spin your words until they glisten like gold. You don’t get to make yourself feel better at my expense.”

 

He didn’t even think. Something about her anger had sparked something deep within him, and before he could stop himself, he found his body surging towards her. Her lips were soft and warm, and the intoxicating scent of cinnamon was even stronger than before. The kiss was electric.

 

And then her warmth was gone, replaced by a stinging sensation in his cheek. She’d slapped him, hard. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry. Not when he saw the way her own eyes darkened. Until she spoke.

 

“I’m not your whore, Hook.”

 

“Emma.” He recognized how wrecked his own voice sounded.

 

“No. I saw her picture. I saw her dresses still in the wardrobe. I’m not sure where she is, but I’ll not be someone to warm your bed until she returns.”

 

There was a pain to her voice. He recognized it all too well.

 

“That’s not. I would never-” 

 

He was so vexed by her that he couldn’t even form words. She was so arrogant and defensive, and he hated it. He hated the way she put her walls up at even the slightest hint of affection. He hated the way she’d pushed him away when she’d obviously been just as affected. He hated that he’d felt such an urgent need to kiss her in the first place. 

 

And then she’d reminded him of Milah. For a brief moment, he’d completely forgotten about her, totally wrapped up in the woman before him. For a brief moment, no one else had existed outside the two of them.

 

In an attempt to calm himself he began pacing along the small enclosure. His breathing was erratic and stilted. She’d frustrated him more than any person ever had. 

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. That was unbecoming, and it won’t ever happen again. I assure you.”

 

She said nothing in response.

 

“I’ll have the doctor come get you as soon as we make port.”

 

“I told you, I’m not going. Send me down some parchment and I’ll list out what he needs.”

 

“By poseidon's trident. You are the most bloody stubborn woman I’ve ever met. I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to make you happy. God only knows why I care.”

 

He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his head.

 

“Why did you really come for me?”

 

Her voice was much calmer that time.

 

“I honestly don’t know.” 

 

It was the truth. He had no idea why Regina needed her heart to be broken, and he certainly had no idea if he’d be capable of it now. Even if by some miracle, she gave him another chance, he’d made the fatal mistake of caring about her.

 

“Swan, I really don’t know. I needed your help, and you needed mine. And truth be told, from the moment I laid eyes on you, something in you called out to me. I can’t explain it, and I don’t think I even want to understand it.”

 

He paused, unsure how how to explain his relationship with Milah. 

 

“And yes, I won’t lie. I loved my Milah dearly. I met her when I was at my lowest point, and she saved me from drowning in self pity. I always knew that she was the only woman I would ever love, and the thought of anyone else- Well, it wasn’t an idea that I ever thought I could even entertain. Not until I met you at least.”

 

He hadn’t meant to say the last part. He hadn’t even realized he’d been thinking it. But in truth, Emma had occupied his thoughts for weeks. He’d thought of Milah only in the fleeting moments of guilt. The pull he’d felt from Emma though had only intensified, and the longer he was near her, the more he felt like she was a missing piece of his soul.

 

The idea of her having such a hold over him, having a transfix on him terrified him to his core. Feeling emotionally drained he let himself collapse on the mattress. Whatever stuffing that had once been in that corner disintegrated under his weight.

 

“I know that you have no wish to be anywhere near me, but you can’t stay down here any longer.” He watched as her mouth opened, but rushed to speak before she could. “And before you say anything, it’s not my guilt speaking. I can’t stomach the idea of you down here because it bothers me seeing you this way. It bothers me seeing you so hopeless and complacent.” 

 

He stood and walked slowly towards her, gently as not to spook her. Without thinking, his hand raised and his knuckles brushed against her cheek, lightly, causing her eyes to flutter shut.

 

“Swan, please come up to the deck. You can have my quarters and I’ll find somewhere else to sleep.”

 

The way she’d almost relaxed in to him, he’d been certain that she’d agree, but it had been the wrong thing to say, for as soon as he finished, she stepped back, breaking their contact.

 

“Please, Emma.”

 

It was a plea.

 

“Ornate wooden carvings, golden fixtures, stained windows. It wouldn’t be any different in the end. A gilded cage is still a cage, Killian.”

 

Killian frowned, taking in every inch of her face. It was the first time she’d used his given name and somehow that tore at him even more that when she’d used his moniker in anger. Her eyes had become haunted, and she suddenly carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.

 

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve been through worse. Send George down tomorrow and I’ll accompany him into town.”

 

Emma stepped past him and laid her slender body along one of the edges of the mattress, sinking into it as she did so.

 

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m feeling a bit tired.”

 

It was the only dismissal he needed.


	11. 10

 

She’d almost broken as he pleaded with her use his room. His face bore the pain her heart felt. But as she thought upon it, she’d realized that all it would have done was give her false hope. Hope that she had any control over her live. No. She’d learned the hard way, growing up as a child in a castle, surrounded by the finest decorations that could be purchased, that despite the beauty, it was all still a prison. She had no freedom. Staying in Killian’s quarters would have been no different. She’d still be a captive on the ship.

 

No. It was best to remain down in the brig where she'd remember her place in the world.

 

Slumber had come in fits. Nightmares haunted her and each time she woke, it was to tears in her eyes, and she was grateful for the distance between her and the crew. Grateful for the extra space and wooden planks to muffle her cries.

 

Morning had come just as horribly, and when the ship’s doctor had come to great her with a tray full of bread and fruits, he’d only looked upon her with concern. Her exhaustion was evident, even without a mirror. She could feel the puffiness in her face and the dryness in her throat. Mr. Scourie made no mention of it though, and Emma silently thanked him for it.

 

“Cap says eat up and then to let one of us know when you’re ready to head into town. There’s a little shop that carries stuff you should find useful, and if not we can look again the next time we make port.”

 

With that, he excused himself and Emma rolled her eyes. Yes, much of what she’d need would be easily bought, but more often than not, may of the plants she used were easily found in the woods. Granted, Mr. Scourie would need proper training to learn to differentiate between some items, but Emma saw no use in paying for items that could be found for free.

 

She took her time in eating the meal that had been brought down to her. She wasn’t sure if Killian would be on deck or if he would have already started shopping for supplies, but if on the off chance he was still there, she needed to steel herself in order to face him.

 

_Something in you called out to me._

 

He’d said it the night before, and that was the moment she felt her anger for him shift at such an alarming rate her legs had nearly given out from under her. She’d felt it too, felt something in him asking her to stay, to help him. There was something unexplainable, undeniable about him. Something hidden just below her flesh, long lost and forgotten, that screamed to life every time he was near. And when his hand had touched her cheeks, she felt a charge moving between them.

 

Her heart yearned for him in his absence. The rational part of her brain tried reminding her that it was just a game. That he didn’t actually mean any of it. He was using her for something and he’d do or say anything to accomplish his goal. Confused and frightened, Emma did what she did best. She willed her walls as high as possible and readied herself for the day.

 

Killian had left a small pot of water and some linens with her in the brig so she could freshen up. Her dress on the other hand was still a mess covered in dirt and wrinkles. As she emerged from below deck, the fresh air assaulted her, and she was forced to take a moment to allow herself to acclimate to it after having spend the previous two days breathing nothing but stale air.

 

Once she’d regained her composure, she looked around for Scourie, hoping to depart as soon as possible and avoid the midday crowds in town. Unfortunately for her, the doctor had not been above deck, and when she inquired as to his whereabouts, she been directed to the Captain’s quarters.

 

There were multiple muffled voices coming from the other side of the door, and when she finally knocked, it was with caution, not wanting to disturb anyone. She shook her head at herself, realizing what a foolish endeavor it had been, as the purpose of knocking in and of itself was get the attention of someone inside.

 

The door had opened without so much as a word of permission, and the first thing Emma noticed was Killian leaning over his desk, mulling around with some papers. When his head rose and his blue eyes connected with hers, she immediately felt that pull he’d spoken of again, and the air had rushed from her lungs, leaving a burn behind in its wake.

 

“Swan.” His voice was soft and controlled. Kind almost.

 

“I wished to let Mr. Scourie know that I was ready to depart the ship.”

 

She tried to turn and exit, but his voice stopped her.

 

“Come in,” he started. “Please.”

 

Only once inside did she notice the presence of a few of the crew members she’d come to assume where his higher ranking men. And while Killian’s quarters weren’t nearly as small of some of the places she’d lived in before, they were hardly large enough to accommodate six men without and sense of claustrophobia being noticeable.

 

“We were just finishing up. Mr. Scourie and Mr. Mullin’s here have been given strict instructions to gather whatever you need while the rest of my men and I see to resupplying the supply hold.”

 

“I’m sorry. I was under the impression that it was just to be Mr. Scourie and myself.”

 

Killian cocked his head to the side, and she could feel him attempting to study her. His eyes bore into hers.

 

“Is there an issue with Mr. Mullen’s that I should be aware of?”

 

Truth be told, the only person on board the ship that had given her pause was Bill Jukes, but he’d since come to apologize for his part in the first day antics, and had kept his distance for the most part there after. Emma was still weary of some of the men, having learned from past mistakes not to trust easily.

 

She couldn’t tell Killian that though. She couldn’t display any weakness in front of him and his crew, so instead she chose a different excuse.

 

“I assumed you wanted me to attract as little attention as possible while out. Having multiple escorts seems like a definite way to draw unwanted attention. I just believe that it would be better with just the two of us.”

 

She watched as his eyes shut and his hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose in undoubtable frustration.

 

“Everyone else out. See to what needs seeing and we’ll disembark momentarily.”

 

The other men filed out, trying to be discreet about their passing glances back and forth between her and their captain.

 

“Swan, this isn’t up for debate.”

 

“Look, I understand that you don’t trust me, and that’s fine. I don’t trust you either. But forcing an extra prison guard on me isn’t going to help anything.”

 

“You think that’s what this is all about? That I don’t trust you?”

 

“Well isn’t it? Why else send Mr. Mullins when Mr. Scourie is fully capable of incapacitating me if need be?”

 

“Of course I trust you.”

 

His eyes had blown wide as he’d said the words, obviously not having meant to say them aloud.

 

“Emma, we’re far enough away now that I’m no longer concerned with people recognizing you. But this port, it’s still a place for pirates, love. And while I have no doubts about Mr. Scourie’s ability to defend himself, I’m not willing to risk sending you out alone with him. Attention or not, I’d feel much calmer knowing that you had someone else to look after you in the event of trouble.”

 

She hadn’t been expecting that and didn’t know how to respond. She’d begun to feel the crackle in her fingertips again, small fissures in her walls. Terrified, she did was she did best. She ran.

 

“Fine.”

 

Without a second look, she turned her back and marched back on deck and crossed the gangplank, only hoping that Scourie and Mullin’s had had the good sense to follow her. She took note at the large number of vessel’s in the port, none of them rivaling the Jolly Roger in size though.

 

The village itself was nothing special. Most of the buildings were covered in a thin layer of mud from the mix of dust in the air and ocean water mist that came in on the wind. The stones in the streets were uneven and missing in places. It was clear to her why it was a preferred port for pirates. There was a distinct lack of a commonwealth, a place for pirates to easily evade the law.

 

Most of the people they passed were ordinary enough, milling about the streets carrying baskets to hold their groceries. There was a market near the center of town that held more activity. She could hear men calling out to garner attention for their booths. There had even been a man at the edge of it all with a cart of flowers. He’d called out to the men with Emma, most likely trying to tempt them into buy her a middlemist flower. Mullin’s had scoffed at the man, and Scourie had been far too engrossed in asking her questions to notice, and when they turned to head down a side road, he’d jogged after them, presenting Emma with the flower anyway.

 

_A beautiful flower for a beautiful woman, on the house._

 

He’d blushed as he’d given it to her, and Emma smiled at him in thanks. Mullin’s had been annoyed with the delay and insisted that they continue on and leave the man to return to his cart.

 

The apothecary, if it could be called such, was down a windy road at the edge of the village. She’d been surprised that they were going there rather than an herbalist shop, but Scoury had explained that some of the ports they stopped at were more isolated and had to make due with what they could. Mullin’s had opened the old creaky door, insisting that he have a look inside before he’d allowed Emma and Scourie to enter. The shop smelled musty, not surprising given it’s location, but she’d been expecting the aroma of fresh sage or lavender. Instead, she was met by rows of pre bottled elixirs. There were only a handful of flowers in the shop, each hanging upside down to dry.

 

Emma had seen it before. Shops that popped up claiming to have authentic cures, meant to pedal for a tidy profit from people who could ill afford it, only to pack up in the middle of the night and move on to swindle someone new. Healing the way she did was often a closely guarded secret. Had it not been for the Blue Fairy’s lessons as a child, she wouldn’t have know any better than the villagers.

 

“Miss,” George called out and Mullins continued to mill around the shop grimacing at some bottles that contained something that looked like eyeballs. “I’ve found a few things that you mentioned on the walk up.”

 

Emma made her way to where Mr Scourie had begun setting bottles on the counter. The woman behind it began grabbing them, placing them in sacks before Emma could get a better look at them. Just as she grabbed for the last bottle, Emma grabbed for her wrist, stopping her from packaging it.

 

The label on the bottle had ‘Turmeric Tea” scrawled out in unsteady font, but the powder inside was a dark brown rather than the orange color it should have been. Emma popped the cork from the bottle drawing the ire of the checkout clerk.

 

“Hey now. You open it you buy it.”

 

Emma ignored her, rolling her eyes instead, and inhaled the scent of the contents.

 

“What is this?”

 

“You saw the label. It said Turmeric Tea, Miss,” the old woman hissed out.

 

“Yes, I saw the label. I didn't ask you what it said. I asked you what was in the bottle.”

 

“Miss?”

 

Emma had nearly forgotten that George was standing next to her. His bewilderment was apparent, and Emma’s disagreement had apparently caught the attention of Mullins who had also joined them at the counter.

 

“Mr. Scourie. What color is this?”

 

He looked at her confused before answering.

 

“Brown?”

 

“Yes. And what does is smell like to you?”

 

She watched as he smelling the contents himself. His face shifted.

 

“I haven’t got a clue, Miss.”

 

“Neither do it. If anything I might suspect that it was local soil, but I can say with complete certainty that it is _not_ turmeric tea.”

 

“Hey now,” screeched the old woman. “You can’t just come here into my shop throwing around wild accusations!”

 

“How do you know?” It was the first time Mullins had spoken since they entered the shop.

 

“Tumeric has more of a rust color. In powdered form it should almost appear orange and should smell lightly of ginger or citrus.”

 

“Perhaps it was just a bad batch,” tried Scourie, but Emma knew by looking around that none of the items in the shop held any true medicinal properties.

 

“Hardly. This woman is nothing more than a huxster, praying on the desperation and naivety of others.”

 

Emma watched as the woman became more upset, looking like she was ready to lunge, but one curt glance to Mullin’s and the woman had stepped backwards. Mullin’s however stepped closer, placing his hands on the countertop, leaning over into the woman’s face.

 

“Maybe it had escaped your notice, but my friends and I aren’t from around her. You see, we arrived by ship just this morning. And as you can clearly see, we’re not exactly wearing our naval best now are we?” The woman shook her head as he continued. “So then you must know what we are.”

 

“Pirates,” she whispered, the fear evident.

 

“Yes, and I’m sure that you are aware that trying to deceive pirates can be a very dangerous thing. My captain would even go so far as to consider it poor form, and there’s nothing he despises more than people who pray on the weakness of others.”

 

The woman swallowed.

 

“And you see, my captain, he isn’t a man to be trifled with. He’s made a name for himself disposing of people he considers no better than gutter swine. People like you. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? Captain Hook of the Jolly Roger.”

 

With that the woman’s eyes blew wide and she began to visibly shake. Emma had never heard of Killian before he found her back in the Northern Isle, nor had she heard of Hook, but it was clear that the name had struck fear into the woman. It made Emma wonder just what type of man Killian was. She’d born witness to his anger before, but for the most part, he’d seemed like a rather reasonable man. Emma wasn't so ignorant as to think that he was always like that, but she’d yet to see anything that could cause such a visceral reaction.

 

Mullin’s proceeded to tell the woman that she’d be wise to close her shop permanently, threatening her, that the captain wouldn’t be merciful if they caught her again trying to peddle her counterfeit wares anywhere else. As they left, the woman locked up behind them and Emma questioned if Mullin’s threat would actually be enough to stop the woman. If the reputation of Hook was all it lived up to.

 

Scourie, assuming that their trip into the village was a failure started back for the ship, but Emma wasn’t finished. She’d agree to teach the man, and she wasn’t one to not to follow through on her promises. Instead, she redirected both men past the town line, into the woods where she knew she’d find at least a few items of use. It wouldn’t be much, but she’d given Scourie her journal on plants to read over in the meantime until they could reach a true herbalist. She’d meant to grab it before they left the ship, but then Killian had happened and she hadn’t had time to look for it before running.

 

The walk had been quiet, but every so often Emma could have sworn that she could hear the faint whisper of snapping twigs coming from behind them. Neither men heard it though, and eventually Emma convinced herself that it was just wild animals playing on her nerves. Killian’s warning about men in the village was still plaguing her mind.

 

“So are we looking for anything in particular?” It was Mullin’s that asked, and Emma couldn't help but wonder if he’d just been ready to get their trip over with, or if he had taken a genuine interest. Judging by his reaction in the apothecary, she’d leaned more towards the latter.

 

“Honestly, I’m just looking for anything. There are some plants that are indigenous to certain climates like cinnamon and salvia. Unless you're in the area where they grow, you’ll only find them in specialty shops. Other plants though, thrive in all conditions and should be more commonplace.”

 

Mullin’s nodded his head while Scourie had clearly taking mental notes.

 

They traipsed around for a bit before they stumbled upon a small meadow filled with white flowers. Emma smiled, knowing she’d found something that would be of use to them.

 

“You’ve found something, Miss?” asked Scourie.

 

Emma beckoned both men over to look at the plant beside her.

 

“This gentlemen, is called Devil’s Nettle.”

 

The more formal name of the plant was yarrow, but Emma figured that an imposing sounding name would be far easier for the pirates to remember later on.

 

“It grows wild nearly everywhere so it should always be easy for you to find.”

 

Emma went on to point out the features that made the yarrow distinctive, not wanting them to confused it with cow’s parsnip, or worse, poison hemlock. To the novice herbalist, all three plants looked quite similar, most easily differentiating by leaf shape, color, and sheen, but each would have resulted if terrifyingly different results.

 

“And what use is this?” Mullin’s mused.

 

“It has a few different uses, but the most helpful for you all would be its ability to staunch bleeding.”

 

She heard Mullin’s scoff a little, but she smiled at him anyway.

 

“It’s true. Most healers use a mortar and pestle to crush it while it’s fresh to make a poultice. It works well enough for small cuts, but for anything deep, it’s better to allow the flower to dry out first.”

 

“Like the flowers back in the shop?”

 

“Yes,” not that Emma wanted to give that woman credit for anything though. “Once it’s dry, you can crush it into a fine power, which can be used to pack wounds. Not only will it help to stop the bleeding, or slow it at the very least, but it can also help prevent the wound from becoming infected.”

 

“Blood poisoning,” whispered Scourie.

 

Emma had seen it before. The early signs often displayed no significance. Chills, fever, pallor. Those symptoms were associated with nearly all sickness. But then then spots would appear, and breathing would be nearly impossible. It was awful and painful, and usually by the time anyone had the foresight to call upon her, it was too late to make a difference. The look on the doctor’s face told her that he had seen it too.

 

The three of them lingered for a bit longer, collected more plants before returning to town. Emma requested to make a short stop at a local market, purchasing a small jar of olive oil and a small batch of wax so she could teach the doctor to make his own salves. Both men had opened up to her over the course of the day, and she was almost sad as they arrived back at the ship, knowing her company would soon have other things they needed to tend to.

 

It wasn’t until the were back on the deck of the ship that Mullin’s had finally asked her where she had learned everything she knew.

 

“I had a wonderful teacher.”

 

Emma bid the men farewell as she descended the steps, back to her new home. The memories of her lessons with Blue had been nice enough, but it was the final one that lingered in her mind as she navigated her way through the ship. To one where Blue left her. It was sobering, remembering that despite nice moments, nothing was forever. Nothing ever lasted, and eventually everyone left her.

 

The dark thoughts had taken over her, and she’d been ready to face another night of sleeplessness as the ghosts of her past haunted her, but when she arrived to the brig, she found a small bundle waiting for her. Tearing the paper back, three new dresses revealed themselves. Each a little different. The fabrics were simple enough, but the colors were vivid and lively.

 

Stunned, she turned back to the spot where they had been sitting to find a note waiting.

 

> _Swan,_
> 
>  
> 
> _I know you’ll probably protest, but it’s too late. They’ve already been bought and paid for, and while I’d have liked to buy you something finer, I knew that you would prefer these more basic garments. Let’s just consider it a compromise._
> 
>  
> 
> _-Killian_

 

The tears began to well up in her eyes, but for the first time in as long as she could remember, they weren’t from sorrow.

 


	12. 11

 

She was the most stubborn woman he'd ever met and she had the innate ability to infuriate him with barely more than a few words. Despite that though, laid a deep need to protect her. He’d seen it in her eyes the night before. Granted, he hadn’t understood it then. He’d seen her walls, the burden she carried, but he hadn’t seen behind the mask then. It wasn’t until the morning, when he’d caught sight of his own reflection that he’d finally realized it.

 

She was a lost girl, all alone. She’d never had anyone to watch out for her. He’d at least had Liam to keep him safe, which was why he probably hadn’t noticed right away. But after Liam passed, he’d become a bit of a lost boy too. Milah had helped to curve the feeling, but it was still there in some incarnation. Nothing could replace the need for family. The security of knowing that there was always someone there.

 

Emma didn’t have that though. It was evident when he’d met her. The sparse furnishing, the way she packed up and moved on so easily. Perhaps that’s why he felt so strongly that she needed the extra escort. He tried to tell himself that was the only reason he cared, that she’d feel better with an extra sword at her side, but the truth was undeniable. He was worried for her safety, and not simply as the key to getting Milah back. He couldn’t stomach the idea of some man attempting to seduce her away, or a pirate to claim her as loot.

 

She wasn’t in as much danger in the Port Avalon in the small realm of Camelot as she would have been at their last port of call, but it was still a haven frequented by unsavory types. The village belonged to a commonwealth, but it was on the furthermost tip of the kingdom, and more often than not, the king and his men saw it too much a burden to watch over. He himself had heard that the King had gone mad causing discord amongst his council. It left the men and women who lived to police themselves, and while they did their best, on occasion a particularly rowdy bunch of sailors would arrive leaving the villagers at the mercy of their brute behaviors.

 

Killian had taken stock of the other ships nearby, and although none seemed to be cause for concern, it didn’t mean that a ship wouldn’t arrive later. Still, as slim as the chances were, he wanted Mullin’s at Emma’s side. He’d even ordered Mullin’s to put Emma’s life above his own. That if she didn’t return, Mr. Mullin’s shouldn’t bother returning either. Emma had been noticeably upset. He’d only order the men out of his cabin so they wouldn’t lay witness to his pleading. A pirate captain wasn’t to display weakness for any reason, especially not for a woman who many on board still had lingering resentment towards.

 

When he’d explained himself to her, she’d only given the briefest of pauses before yelling fine and storming out of the room, leaving him a mess. She both vexed and captivated him. Emma was gone by the time he’d emerged back on deck, and he’d felt an odd loss from her absence. An unexplainable void that left his mood soured for the day.

 

He’d taken Ed Teynte with him, leaving Smee and Jukes in charge of the Jolly. Killian had been to the small port enough times that he knew a shortcut leading through town, and while his first stop was clear across the village, he couldn’t help but stop in the market first.

 

Emma had bathed the night before and he’d left her a basen so she could freshen up in the morning, but she’d only arrived with the clothes on her back. The dress she’d been wearing since coming on board was tattered and stained.  He knew that she would protest if she had been with him, but he couldn’t stand the idea of her wearing those rags any longer. So he hit the center of town. The market itself had nothing to offer him, but one of the shops lining the perimeter of the market dealt in fabric and premade garments. It wasn’t as fancy of a shop as he’d like, but considering how Emma had worried about bringing attention to her, simpler dresses were probably for the better anyway.

 

As he worked his way through all of the stands, one in particular caught his eye. It was a cart full of flowers that ranged in all colors. But the flower that really stood out to him was one considered quite rare. A middlemist flower. A flower as rare and delicate as Emma herself. Killian instructed Teynte to continue on to the farm without him, not wanting to alert the man of his intentions to buy trinkets.

 

His cheeks blushed at the thought. It was one thing for him to make purchases for his mistress. The crew knew her; they wouldn’t question his masculinity for it. And to be honest, flowers had never really been her thing. Getting a flower for Emma though, he would have looked like a young lad attempted to woo a woman for the first time and that wouldn’t stand in front of his men. Especially when he was only getting it for her because he still felt empathy for her, ar at least that what he told himself.

 

After paying a silver coin for a single long stem flower, he described Emma to the cart vendor, explaining that she’d be making her way past the market at any moment. The vendor asked Killian if he wanted him to tell Emma that the flower was from him, but Killian declined. Instead he simply told the man what to say to her.

 

_A beautiful flower for a beautiful woman._

 

Next, he stopped off quickly at the dress shop, picking up three dresses for Emma. They were plain, but that was exactly what Emma would have preferred. He left instructions for them to be bundled up and delivered to the Jolly and left with Mr. Smee. He scribbled down a note for his first mate to set the package on the mattress that Emma slept on and urged him for his discretion.

 

After that had been tended to, Killian set off for a small farm. He’d dealt with the man who owned the land for years, and in return for a large amount of coin, he’d give Killian and his crew pick of his prime livestock. The amount and type of animals brought on board would vary from visit to visit depending on how long his voyage would be, the man had always been fair about the barter. As they would only be at sea for a few more weeks before making their last call on their way to Mysterious Island, he wouldn’t need his usual haul.

 

After haggling for a bit, they’d settled on eleven chickens, a goat, and two pigs. The chickens would be good for laying eggs, and the goat would not only provide milk, but would also help tend to the waste on the ship.

 

He went about his day, collecting more supplies for the journey, still in a bit of a foul mood. It was warm and his crew was dragging as they accepted everything and found new homes for it. He’d even snapped at Noodle for tangling some ropes as he shuffled about trying to steer the animals to the hold. He’d felt awful for it. Noodle hadn’t done anything wrong, none of his men had done anything that warranted his current mood.

 

It only got worse when he caught sight of Emma returning. He’d been up on a on of the masts, checking on the main sail as a precaution. She hadn’t seen him as she boarded, and when Killian saw Mullins pull a smile from Emma’s face, he felt angry. Irrationally so, but he couldn’t quash the feeling. Only hours earlier Emma had been adamant that she’d rather not have Mullin’s along, only to have the man in question elicit a response Killian had yet to receive. A response he greatly wanted to be the source of.

 

Eventually Killian excused himself, but not until he was sure that Emma had no intention of re emerging from her self imposed prison. He tried to fill in the time with checking his charts and mapping out their route to their final port, but none of it helped, and the lingering doubts he had as he wondered how Emma had felt about her gifts made him anxious.

 

Making his way back on deck to check on the crew’s progress, something in the wind shifted and Killian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. His eyes scanned the docks, but nothing felt out of place. Still, he couldn’t ignore the lingering feeling that he was being watched.

 

 _Regina_ he mused to himself.

 

It had been weeks since he’d seen or heard from her. Not since he’d left for the Northern Isles, but he wasn’t daft enough to expect her not to keep an eye on him. A sharp pain stabbed in his gut as he remembered their deal.

 

_Seduce Emma to save Milah._

 

Simple enough at the time, despicable as it was, but Killian had known his place. Yet, over the course of the day, only the briefest flicker of Milah had appeared in his mind. Just a fleeting memory like she was already gone, like he’d already grieved her. He was no closer to either goal. He loathed himself.

 

Eventually the restlessness became too much to bear. He needed a reason to leave the ship, to put some space in between himself and Emma.

 

“Mr. Smee. Please watch over the men and when their work is done, grant them leave to enjoy the village as they see fit.”

 

Smee acknowledge him and got back to work as Killian headed back into town. He was still weary, as he felt that there where eyes on him, but once he made it further away from his ship the feeling dissipated. Perhaps Regina had been watching Emma rather than him, although that idea didn’t settle with him either.

 

He continued down the little stretch of beach that he’d found until he came across a cove. The waters were calm and provided a balm to his soul he’d been sorely needing. Something about being in that little cove, the faint smell of the sea, reminded him of being a child. He’d had so few memories of his time living on land, and even then he wasn’t sure if any of the memories had been real of just fabrications based on things Liam had spoken of.

 

Killian sat on the sand and thought of his mother. Liam had once sketched out a drawing of their mum when the Killian had said he couldn’t remember her face anymore. Liam had been young though, and far less skilled at using charcoal to capture emotion. The sketch, now long to time, hadn’t done anything to jog Killian’s memories though. All he had were the stories. She’d been the kindest woman in all of the realms. That how Liam had put it anyway. And for the first time since he was a lad, Killian wondered how differently his life would have turned out if she hadn’t passed.

 

Hours later, with a darkened sky, Killian began to make his way back into town. He’d briefly considered going back to the Jolly, but as most of his men would surely have been enjoying themselves elsewhere, there’d be nothing for him there. No food. No distraction.

 

Instead he turned, making way for a small tavern he’d frequented for years. He’d often enough found solace there before Milah. The woman that works there had been lovely enough, and in his youth he’d been less discerning. Then he’d met his love, and although the women were still lovely, they had lost their appeal. None of them had compared. No one had ever compared to her until Emma.

 

Killian mumbled a curse as the blonde siren had once again made her way into his mind. She was always there, gracing all of his thoughts, and it was driving him mad. She was maddening.

 

He needed  a distraction, just one night where Emma Swan was nothing more than an abstract concept. Perhaps with enough rum he’d be able to drown her out.

 

The Half Mast Tavern was bustling with activity as he cracked the door open. It was easy to spot most of his men as they sat at a table in the middle of the tavern throwing dice. Starkey, Jukes, and Mason were all laughing loudly as some story Canary Robb had been telling. Cecco was heading up the steps towards the rooms for rent with a copper haired lass. Killian wondered how many coins she’d set the man back, but then remembered that the Italian had almost as much magnetism for woman as he did. The chances were high that the woman solicited him for no payments.

 

After scanning the rest of the tavern, Killian found Smee and Teynte at a table near the back. He joined them, ordering a bottle of rum for himself.

 

“And what are you two fine gentlemen discussing?”

 

Both men sat up a little straighter in respect for their captain until he sat down at the free chair.

 

“We were just reminiscing over some of our past visits here, like when that drunk fool tried challenging Foggerty to a duel.”

 

Killina laughed at the memory. The man in question had only been a part of Killian’s crew for a few months but had shown his worth over and over. But the man had a penchant for buxom blondes and more often than not, the women he chose to bed were bored housewives looking for a little excitement. Killian took no issue with it, as long as the woman were willing. On the occasion Teynte had referred to, Foggerty had been confronted by the village butcher. Killian had been concerned, the butcher after all had more muscle than Foggerty, and Killian had almost stepped in. Pirates had a code after all, but the also had pride, Foggerty had insisted on handling himself.

 

“I’m guessing his wife was washing the dung out of his clothes for weeks,” Smee had barked out.

 

The butcher’s size had been no match for Foggerty’s agility, and he’d best then man in under two minutes, leaving Killian’s crew to dump the man outside. It had been raining, and without realizing it, they’re dumped the man straight into a pile of goat manure.

 

“Aye, she still left with the boy. I’m sure he made it worth her time.”

 

All three men laughed before settling into an easy silence. More drinks had been ordered and as the night progressed, Killian had begun to feel more relaxed. Right up until his men appeared with a raven haired wench.

 

“Captain, the boys and I all got you something” Smee began.

 

Killian immediately tensed, ready to tell them all to bugger off, but then he remembered. As far as any of them were concerned, he was a virile single man. They thought they’d be doing him a favor.

 

“Oh, Mr. Smee. How did you know?

 

It was deja vu. He’d played this game before when he and Milah were still sneaking around. A quick show of perusing her with his eyes, and then he’d leave and pay her for her silence. He’d even pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her, making a show for his men, but before he could stand to head to the door, a female laugh had caught his ear. Something melodic. He turned to find the source, but all he saw was gold.

 

The golden tresses of Emma Swan. She wasn’t alone either. Her hand was caressing the hand of a local man that appeared to be around the same age as Killian. His hair was slightly lighter, with a bit more curl. Killian’s jaw clenched in anger as he watched them. It wasn’t just the physical intimacy the shared that bothered him though, nor was it the blush on her cheeks as the man spoke to her. No, what bothered him most was the way the laces at the top of her new red gown had been undone, the way the man’s eyes dropped to Emma’s cleavage as she leaned forward.

 

“Captain?” The bar wench’s voice had been timid

 

“My apologies, lass. I shan't be but a moment.”

 

He smiled to her before making his was to Mullin’s. The man already reeked of ale.

 

“Mullins” he growled out. “What is Miss Swan doing here?”

 

The man’s eye’s sobered slightly.

 

“Captain, I just assumed, what with her being allowed to leave the ship earlier today that you wouldn’t mind her comin’ with us.”

 

“Do we need to have a discussion about you taking such liberties aboard _my ship_?”

 

“No, Capt’n.”

 

Killian looked around, trying to find anyone sober enough to escort Emma back to the ship. He tried to reason with himself that his anger stemmed from the fact that one of his men had overstepped his authority, but if he wasn’t that good of a liar. He’d been livid seeing Emma flirting with another man, just as he’d been angry seeing Emma laugh at Mullin’s earlier.

 

“Turley.”

 

Chas Turley had snapped to attention. He was the only man aboard the Jolly that hadn’t taken to drinking in excess each time the docked at a new place.

 

“Yes, Captain.”

 

“Please see to it that Miss Swan makes it back to my ship.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

But the man made no move toward the door.

 

“Is there any particular reason that you’re disobeying a direct order form your captain?”

 

“Uh, no, sir. Well, no- but Miss Swan.”

 

Killian rolled his eyes at the man’s blubbering.

 

“She’s uh, gone sir.”

 

Killian swung around, feeling his leather coat fan our around him. Sure enough, Emma was missing, along with her companion. The impending jealousy nearly caused his stomach to lurch. He was about to give the order for his men to go search for her, but it would have been a fool’s errand. His men would be shipshape in time to sail out, but until then, they were all drunken buffoons.

 

“One of these days I’m going to stop chasing after this woman,” he whispered to himself as he made his way for the door, his own conquest forgotten.

 

She hadn’t been gone for long, which meant that the distance she’d traveled would have been minimal, but he wasn’t sure which way she would have gone. As luck had had it though, there had been a man, just outside the front entrance relieving himself on the tavern wall.

 

As the man shook and laced his trousers back up, Killian asked him if he’d seen a couple exit the tavern. The man had nodded yes, and with the promise of a silver coin, had pointed out the direction in which he’d seen them go. They’d headed back down towards the docks, and Killian felt his blood begin to boil. There were no cottages along that route for them to slip into. That meant that either she’d intended to abscond with the man into the night, or even worse, she’d intended to bed him aboard his ship.

 

Killian found himself walking faster, fueled by the fury building inside him. Visions her her slayed out under the strange man filled his head, so much so that’s he’d almost missed the commotion. But once he’d heard someone call out a profanity he’d stopped to check the source.

 

There, just at the edge of the docks, he caught a glimpse of Emma’s hair glistening in the moonlight. Jogging to catch up, it wasn’t until he was nearly onboard the ship that he’d realized that Emma had had the man pinned against his own mast with a knife to his throat.

 

“Why have you been following me?”

 

“You’re crazy!”

 

If Emma had heard Killian come on deck, she gave no indication.

 

“Trust me, I’ve been called worse.” The man moaned as she dug the edge of the knife into his flesh, barely piercing his skin. “Now, tell me, why were you following me.”

 

“Look, I thought you were attractive when I saw you at the tavern. That’s it. That’s the first time I saw you.”

 

Killian stepped closer towards her, ready to protect her should she require it. Needless to say though, that he’d been shocked and impressed with her. She’d displayed her strength and independence the day he’d met her, when she’d trained an arrow on him. But he’d never have expected her to be strong enough to overpower a man in such a way.

 

“I’m going to let you in on a secret. You see, I have this thing. Some people call it a gift, other a curse, but I can always tell when someone is lying to me. And you, August, or whatever your name is, are lying.”

 

When the man didn’t immediately respond, Emma drug the knife back a little, and a drop of blood began to roll down the man’s neck. He hissed in pain.

 

“Fine!” The man yelled out. “I saw your face on a wanted poster back in Misthaven.

 

Killian’s jaw dropped open.

 

“I owe a lot of coin to some very unfriendly guys. thought if I could find you and bring you in, the reward money would be enough to pay them off.”

 

Emma took a step back, releasing the man, but her grip on the knife remained firm. Killian was curious as to where the knife had come from, if she’d been hiding it on her person the entire time, or if she’d managed to swipe if from the man in front of them. August, if that had really even been his name, fell to his knees and began rubbing at his throat. His Swan was visibly distraught, pacing back and forth on the tiny boat.

 

“Swan?”

 

He hoped that his presence might have brought her some reassurance, but instead she only paled further.

 

“You didn’t need to follow me. I’m perfectly capable of taking can of myself.”

 

“Aye, of that I have no doubts. But that doesn’t mean that you _have_ to do everything alone.”

 

He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted from her, but her trust would have been a good start. Emma had been skittish since the beginning and now, knowing that she was actually a wanted woman gave him a little more insight into her. He’d spent his whole life on the run from authorities. He just needed her to understand how much they had in common, how much he understood her.

 

Emma huffed.

 

“Look, It’s not personal. Okay? I learned long ago that the only person I can every really count on is me.”

 

There was a sorrow in her eyes as she said it. Her demons still haunting her. A mirror image of his own anguish.

 

“Love, we’ll tie him up and leave him in his cabin. But the time the harbormaster comes to check on him, we’ll be long gone.”

 

He watched as she warred with herself, but whatever heightened sense of shock and worry that she’d be running off of was quickly waning. She only nodded to him before backing away from the man in question.

 

Killian had grabbed a spare rope that had been hanging from the main mast. Clearly the man had been a novice at sailing or he’d have known better than to leave a rope their hanging loosely with no knots. Killian grabbed him by the back of the collar and yanked him onto his feet. August had tried to struggle, but when he caught sight of Killian’s Hook, he immediately stopped and let himself be led down into the only open space below deck.

 

Killian took stock of the room, there was a chair that he could have tied the man to, but the chair was thin, and with enough determination, he would have easily been able to work his way back out of the cabin. No, he needed something larger. The only other object that could suffice was a small dresser. It was just wide enough, and with any luck, heavy enough to keep August in place until morning.

 

“You don’t understand who you’re dealing with.” August tried to plead.

 

“Is that so?”

 

Killian’s patience for the man was wearing thin.

 

“She’s wanted for murder. Look, we can work together, We can split the purse.”

 

There was an immediate throbbing sensation has his fist connected with the man’s face, knocking him on cold in the process. Once he’d properly secured the man to his furniture, he reemerged to find Emma still onboard, looking out over the water.

 

“Come now, love. It’s best we not linger.”

 

She nodded and took his proffered arm. The made their way back to the Jolly in silence, and once back in the safety of his own vessel, she thanked him quietly before retreating back to her makeshift room. He’d briefly considered following her to check on her, but managed to keep some semblance of restraint. Had he been in Emma’s position, he’d have wished to be left alone with his thoughts.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She’d seen the flyer, she knew there was a warrant out for her arrest. That was shy she could never return to Misthaven, but she’d never expected someone to come after her in such a way. Killian had been an anomaly. The first man to seek her out in eight years and even then, the poster had been vague. But August, he know what crimes she’d been accused of. She’d overheard him telling Killian, and while Killian had punch him for it, Emma know that it would only be a matter of time before the accusation wormed it’s way into Killian’s brain.

 

It wasn’t even an accusation, not technically. She’d killed Graham, however unintentionally, and then there was Neal. She still didn’t know how much anyone knew about what happened to him. The guilt from that night haunted her still. She still heard his screams echo through the night.

 

Scared and alone, just as she’d always been, has she’d always be, Emma hide below deck in her prison. The only sounds she hear were from one of the crewmen bringing her a tray of food, or the occasional loose chicken milling around the ship. For the most part, she was left alone to stew over all of the horrible acts she’d committed.

 

For two weeks she stayed down there. Killian had tried to coax her back on deck for fresh air, but Emma was paying her pennace down there. She could still feel the handle of the knife in her palm, the way it felt to drag the blade along August’s neck. There had been a terrified part of her, a malicious part that had considered doing more. A darkness that had whispered to her to rip his heart out, and despite her vow to never use magic again, she’d considered it.

 

Then Killian had appeared and the darkness had retreated. Shame filled it’s place. She’d yelled at Killian, pushed him away in her own embarrassment. He hadn’t let her though, and instead he gave her a look of understanding, and for just one brief moment, she wasn’t alone in the world. But then August had used the word murder, and everything fell apart again.

 

Two weeks of drinking old water and cleaning out her bucket in the middle of the night. Two weeks of avoiding every living soul aboard the ship, especially it’s captain. Two weeks of solitude. Two weeks of peace.

 

And then the peace was shattered. Even from her secluded nook of the ship, Emma could hear the crackle of thunder. The ship tipped violently back and forth, and eventually the swaying became too much for Emma. As she made her way towards the deck, she’s expected to hear Killian barking out orders to his men to man the ropes or something equally as nautical, but instead she was greeted with silence.

 

The only noise came in the form of rain pounding against the wood, and the continued booming claps of thunder. Lightning filled the skies. But there were no men running around working at their stations. Emma looked around, searching for anyone through the haze of rain. She could barely see beyond a few feet. Carefully, she stepped along the deck, cautious of the water causing her shoes to slip. Finally, near the bow, she found all of the men, standing, lingering in a hypnotic state.

 

She’d never seen anything quite like it. Mr. Scourie had been at the edge of the crowd closest to her. She tried to shake him from of his revery, but he was immovable. Mullin’s provided to be no different. She continued, trying each man as she passed through the congregation of pirates. The ship lurched as it hit a jagged rock rising from the water, and Emma had to brace herself against the railing. They were sailing into the heart of the storm, and while she couldn’t see much, she felt plenty. There was magic ahead, Something dark and sinister.

 

Once upright, Emma began searching for Killian. For some reason, she could feel something in him calling to her, just as she had that first day. A magnetic force, unseeable, unstoppable. Closing her eyes, she let the feeling guide her back to the helm of the ship. He was standing behind the wheel, just as fixated as all of the other men in the crew.

 

She tried calling his name but his eyes remained glazed over. It was no use. Just as before, shaking him had done nothing to loosen him from the transe either. She considered breaking her rule on using her powers. Blue had taught her early on, magic always came with a price, but Emma reasoned that if it was to save the life of everyone in board, that it would be worth the consequences.

 

She raised her hands in the air, willing the ship to stop, willing the stormy waters to calm, but nothing happened. She was terrified, and had no control over her powers. Once more, she tried anything, anything that could stop them from sailing towards certain death, but there was nothing. No shift in wind, no relief from the deluge they were under. Dread seized at her chest. There was nothing she could do to stop their fate. So she took his face in her hands and made a wish on the star that had forsaken her so many years before.

 

“Killian, come back to me. Please.” A whispered plea.

 

She watched his face, watched at the haze faded from his ocean blue eyes, as the raindrops fell from his lashes when he blinked. Watched the stunned expression take over his face. She watched as he looked around trying to understand what was happening. Shock and fear took over.

 

“Swan? What did you do?”

 


	13. 12

 

_Murder._

 

The man’s accusations had plagued him for days once back at sea. He’d come to know Emma, or at least he thought he had, and in his mind, she was incapable of such a thing. She’d devoted her life to healing others. But then he remembered her eyes, the fear he’d seen there. Part of him had been worried that Emma was going to kill August to protect whatever secret she was keeping from him. Theft, witchcraft, treason. Those were the things he’d expected, but certainly not murder.

 

It hadn’t helped that she’d immediately pulled away from him after accepting his help. He’d asked her to trust him, not so much with words, but with his actions. He’d asked her to let him deal with the miscreant, to let him protect her from herself. And surprisingly enough, she’d let him. But they’d board the Jolly and she’d run, locked herself away behind the bars of the brig and her stupid walls.

 

He’d tried a few times to entice her upstairs. He’d even gone so far as to order the cook to make her broiled mackerel. There had been a note on the tray alerting her to the different menu being presented in his quarters, but she’d surprised him again, willingly eating the mackerel with no rum to drown out the flavor or stench.

 

He’d been in the middle of preparing for bed, trying to devise a new plan to coax her out, when the ship had lurched, knocking a few of his books off of their shelves. Killian went to the window to find a mass of clouds approaching unusually quickly. He hadn’t even picked up the first book when the ship tilted again, knocking over some rolled charts from the shelf. Electricity began to build around him, and when he grabbed for the metal lamp, he shocked himself.

 

_Magic_.

 

He grabbed his coat and ran to the helm and the heavens opened up above him. His men set straight to work despite most of them having been otherwise engaged only moments before. Lightening filled the skies and the winds began to whip around them. And then came a soft melodic song. It was different from before though. Granted it had been years since the first and only other time he’d heard the siren’s call, but even though he’d been in a daze for much of it, he remembered the lullaby well. The last time had brought with it a sense of calm and peace, but whatever was happening was darker. The melody, while delicate at first, shifted as the ship sailed further into the storm. The was a fury behind it.

 

Killian called out for his men to cover their ears hoping that if they couldn’t hear the call, they wouldn’t fall prey to it. It was useless though. Only seconds later he watched as his men began to halt their actions one by one, each of them moving to the front of the ship. He himself stayed by the helm, trying to turn the ship away from the storm, but even his shear strength of will wasn’t enough.

 

Whoever was calling to him was in agony. He felt her pain and it was obvious that she wanted all of the men of the world to suffer. It took him quickly, but time seemed as if it stood still. Each drop of rain felt as if it were slicing through his skin, slowly, methodically. One by one the drops seared his flesh, but Killian was unable to move. His soul burned with the torment of the siren. Pure anguish.

 

And then Emma was standing in front of him. He could see her lips moving, could feel the pressure of her hands through the sleeves of his shirt, but he was still paralyzed, unable to respond. He watched as helplessness filled Emma’s eyes and his heart broke for her. She was all alone, again. He’d promised himself that he would protect her, and instead he was standing by idly, seeing her to her death.

 

He hated himself.

 

Killian let the rage and self loathing build within him, strengthening his resolve. He fought with every ounce of fight he had left, and still nothing. Emma lifted her arms in exasperation but he still couldn’t move. There were tears in her eyes and he longed for nothing more than the ability to wipe her cheeks, the take her in his arms and feel her warmth through their wet clothes. He just wanted her.

 

And then the strangest thing happened. Emma’s fingers grazed his jaw, moving up higher to clasp the sides of his face, and he felt a hum running though his skin. Slowly, her voice began to pierce through the melody in his head.

 

_Killian, come back to me. Please._

 

The air rushed back into his lungs causing him to gasp. Everything came into sharp focus. He was aware of everything around him.

 

And he was terribly confused.

 

He’d read the book before. Everything he’d seen stated that the power mermaids held over men was impregnable. There’d never been a single story of a man breaking through the spell. But he’d remembered the way he felt the moment Emma’s skin had come in contact with his. There was raw power in her touch. Something stronger than the enchantment of the mermaid.

 

“Swan? What did you do?”

 

He hadn’t meant for it to come out so bluntly, so accusatory, but he’d been so shocked that he hadn’t had time to consider his tone. When he saw the change in Emma’s face though, the way she immediately put space between them, the way she’d raised her metaphorical walls shutting him away, he’d known that he had screwed up. She’d just saved him, saved them all and all he’d done was yell at her for her troubles.

 

Looking around though, he realized that he didn’t have time to dwell upon it. They were still sailing further into the storm, closer into a large cluster of rocky islets that could easily sink the Jolly. He needed to act fast.

 

“Swan, we need to get the ship turned around. I’m going to need your help!”

 

He’d had to shout to be heard above the sharp whistling of the wind and the thunder exploding above them. Emma had wavered for a moment, likely still surprised by his earlier outburst, but she recovered quickly, understanding the immediacy of their problem. She nodded at him and he explained what he needed her to do. He’d quickly instructed that he needed her to steer the ship as he reset the sails.

 

He set about loosening lines, letting the sails move enough to catch the outbound winds, trying not to slip in the process. He’d called out to Emma as he worked, telling her which direction to turn the wheel, and how much to turn it, but he’d lost his footing during a particularly harsh sway of the boat. They’d hit something and Killian had been trying to deploy the jib sail near the bow of the ship to gain better control of the wind.

 

His body had been thrust forward, flying through the air over the rail. He’d heard Emma scream his name, his real name but it was too late. He was already falling towards the water. He started grasping for anything that he could cling to, but there was nothing.

 

The water was colder than expected. His body had gone into shock. His whole frame felt as if it were made of lead. He fought as hard as he could to keep his head above the water, but between his boots and his leather jacket he was carrying an extra sixty pounds of weight, and his arms quickly tired. His spirit wasn’t ready to give up, but his body had nothing left. His eyes closed and he took one final breath before letting go, before letting the sea take him.

 

He’d been expected a certain sense of calm. Something about drifting down into stiller waters, as he escaped the waves cresting at the water’s surface. But just as he’d almost lost consciousness, he felt something crash into him, something grip him and squeeze his chest. And then he was rising, back towards the chaos of the storm.

 

“Hold on! I’ve got you.”

 

Killian coughed and spit out water, trying to turn and find the source of the voice, but the arms around his chest were holding him too tightly. His lungs were on fire and his body still weak. All he could do was let her keep them afloat.

 

“Killian!”

 

Through the haze in his eyes from the burning saltwater, he saw Emma, perched on the outside of the railing. He took her in, the way half of her clothes were gone, the way a rope was tied around her waist. She was getting ready to jump in after him, but someone had beat her to it.

 

“Throw the rope down, I’ll help tie it around his waist and then you can pull him up.”

 

Emma shook her head yes and climbed back on the Jolly. There was a small splash as the rope hit the water beside them and they began moving towards it. Killian couldn’t help but wonder how they were still afloat. He’d barely been able to keep himself above water for more than a minute or two in the rough waters, and couldn’t imagine trying to keep another person held up with him. The person behind him hadn’t seemed to struggle at all though.

 

Slowly, Killian began to feel himself being heaved into the air by the rope. It dug into his chest, but he was still too tired and weak to fight it. Once he was about half way up, the rope swayed a bit in the wind, just enough for his body to turn and finally look at the woman that had saved him. Her hair was dark as the night, but her eyes were ice blue. A striking combination, but what really caught his attention was the red barely visible through the water.

 

At first glimpse, he’d been worried that his rescuer had been hurt, but as the vivid color drifted around, he caught a shimmer and realized that it was a tail. He’d been saved by a mermaid.

 

It made no sense. Mermaids were vile spiteful disgusting creatures. They lived to torment and kill. Why would one ever save him? It had to have been a trap. He was certain. Fear began to seize him, fear for his crew, his ship, but most of all for Emma.

 

“Who sent you?” he screamed out, thrashing against the rope tugging him up.

 

Whatever fatigue he’d been plagued with was suddenly gone, replaced with a primal need to protect those around him. A need to figure out why the mermaid was there, why she was interfering in his life. He had a hunch that it could possibly have had something to do with Regina, but mermaids were notoriously foul creatures. They didn’t take well to manipulation and control. If Regina had order the beast to help him, she certainly would have made him suffer before fulfilling her end of the bargain.

 

No, this one had saved him without torment. She’d clearly been up to something else.

 

In his focus, he’d not noticed that Emma had somehow managed to hoist him the rest of the way up, until he felt her hands grab at the lapels of his jacket, pulling him over the rail and toppling over in the process. She’d been warm underneath him. Warm and stunning. His eyes fluttered down to her chest, taking in the way it rose and fell at the strenuous way she’s exerted herself pulling him up. Her night shift had become wet from their contact as the rain continued to fall all around them and he could almost see through the thin fabric.

 

Thoughts of how she may look under the garment flashed through his head. Her delicate pale skin, long slender legs. Thoughts of what she’d feel like as his hand caressed her bare stomach, of what she’d feel like everywhere.

 

He bit back a groan, remembering his place. She wasn’t his, and she hadn’t chosen him. No, this wasn’t the comfort of a room with Emma willingly submitting to him. They were on the deck of the Jolly in the middle of the storm without the help of a crew. He felt the sway of the boat and that was all he needed to push himself back up and return to the matter at hand, helping Emma up with him as he looked back into the water.

 

The mermaid was already swimming away from the ship.

 

“Who sent you?” He cried out again. “Why are you here?”

 

He felt Emma’s hands on his shoulders trying to pull him back, but he ignored her in favor of getting answers.

 

The mermaid turned back towards him, floating for just a moment before smiling at him. Then, a soft whisper came in the wind, as if for his ears only. It was her voice.

 

“Stay safe Captain. She needs you.”

 

It was the only answer he got from her before she dove back into the turbulent waters. He waited but she didn’t reemerged.

 

“Hook!”

 

His head snapped back to find Emma’s wild startled eyes staring at him.

 

“Killian, how do we get out of here?”

 

The storm. He’d forgotten briefly that their lives were in peril. The mermaid's words still fresh in his mind, but he pushed them down, taking back what little control he could. He grabbed hold of Emma’s hand and pulled her with him back towards the helm. He’d managed to loosen the rope holding the jib in place before he’d fallen over and the wind had done the rest, fully unfurling it.

 

He grabbed Emma’s arms and turned her so that she was standing in front of the wheel, letting his own body wrap around her, trapping her in place. He had to yell to be heard over the hissing of the squall.

 

“Emma, no matter what happens, don’t let go.”

 

She turned back to him, realization in her eyes. They were in the middle of the storm, and they’d have to sail through a tempest to survive. If for any reason something happened to him, he didn’t want her coming after him. The mermaid may have said that Emma needed him, but the truth was, he felt an undeniable need for her to live. Even if it meant he’d have to sacrifice himself in the process.

 

The sea had been merciful though. Aside from the torrential downpour soaking them, freezing them both to their cores, no other harm had befallen them. As they sailed their way away from the storm, the siren’s call lost it’s hold over his men. One by one they came back to themselves, and after shaking away the sudden shock, set about to righting the ship.

 

When the moon finally managed to break through the clouds, Emma relaxed at last, leaning back into him and he finally found it within himself to relax. His hands were cramped from holding on to the wheel spokes so fiercely and his legs burned from the effort he’d used to keep himself upright. He’d let his hands move after he’d finally felt safe, let them move to Emma. She was shivering and he’d tried rubbing his palms up and down in an effort to infuse her with what little heat he had left.

 

He’d heard the briefest of sighs, a small little content noise that he’d never heard her make before. She turned and let her own arms slip around his back, holding him close. She fit to him perfectly and he was content to stay there forever, but unfortunately for him, there was still a ship and confused crew to content with.

 

“Captain. What’s going on?”

 

Mr. Smee had always had a knack for appearing at the worst possible moment, and that one had been no exception. Emma pulled back, seeming to realize the gravity of what they’d been through, but before she could say anything, Smee spoke again.

 

“Oh, apologies.”

 

Killian looked over to find the man blushing furiously and averting his eyes. When Killian looked back to Emma he realized why. The water had fully soaked Emma’s shift, leaving it visibly transparent in the moonlight, and Emma’s form on full display. She gasped seeing if for herself and attempted to cover herself up with her arms, shrinking in on herself. Killian didn’t hesitate to remove his own coat wrapping it around her shoulders, making sure it was fully clasped and her dignity was protected.

 

“Love, I need to check over the ship. Go dry up and I’ll find you in a bit?”

 

He was surprised when she didn’t try to fight him on it. She was obviously shaken by the entire ordeal, and he wanted nothing more than to see what was going on inside her head, but his crew needed him first.

 

It wasn’t until they were fully out of it that they were able to thoroughly take stock of the damage. The ship’s hull had been compromised by the rocks they had hit and while the mainsail was still intact, the jib and the fore sail had both been badly damaged. Killian knew that as long as they avoided any additional storms, they could possibly make it to the next schedule port, but they were still at least two weeks out, and he’d worried that they’d already tempted the fates enough as it was.

 

Using the stars, his compass, and one of his charts, he deduced that they had been sent about four nautical miles off course. He studied the map in his cabin, his brow furrowed as he realized where the closest port was. He searched every nook and cranny of the coastline, hoping for anyway other options, but the next closest port to them was three weeks away and he didn’t want to chance it. No, there was no way around it.

 

They were going to have to return to the place where Killian Jones died, and Hook was born. The place where the Dark One took his hand.

 


	14. 13

 

Every muscle in her body burned as she laid on the mattress, the hay doing nothing to relieve the tension she still felt. It was difficult to tell just how much time had passed as she laid there, waiting for him to find her, but she was sure a few hours had passed. As she rolled over yet again, images of Killian went through her head on repeat.

 

_She’d been fighting so hard to turn the wheel as the winds and waves worked against them, and then Killian had been thrown over the rail near the rocks. She’d screamed his name, seen the panic in his eyes as his body flew through the air but was unable to do anything. She’d even tried reaching out to him with her magic, but nothing._

 

Realizing that sleep was going to continue to elude her, she rose, determined to be of use. The crew, fatigued as they were, continued to make what few repairs they could. Three of them were down in the bow accessing the damage, boarding up holes in the hull. Just a temporary patch one of them had explained. Just something to get them to the nearest port.

 

There were more crewmen all over the rest of the Jolly doing the same. The only person notably missing was the captain of the ship. She knocked on his door, tentatively. He’d promised to find her later but she couldn’t stay idle any longer. There had been no indication that he was even in his quarters. No sounds, no ‘enter’. Just a faint light coming from under the door, and while she hesitated at entering uninvited, she need him to give her something to do.

 

He looked wrecked. She could see her own exhaustion mirrored in his face, but there was something more. It wasn’t surprising, given what they’d gone through.

 

_She’d run to the edge of the Jolly, peering over, searching for any sign of him, but he wasn’t there. She hadn’t hesitated to run back and grab a fully coiled rope, tying off one end to the mast, but when she’s reached the rail again, she’d frozen, unable to jump. Her heart had lurched._

 

“I heard some of the crew saying that we were going to make port early.”

 

“Aye.”

 

The clipped tone did nothing to settle the weird feeling of uneasiness that had settled over her. She looked around the room and found a crumpled parchment on the ground next to his chair. At first glance, she couldn’t tell what it was, but as she moved to it, almost instinctively, she opened it and froze.

 

Misthaven.

 

Her stomach nearly lurched and it took everything within her not to lose the contents of her stomach.

 

“Is this where we are to make port? Misthaven?”

 

Killian’s eyes had snapped up to hers, frustration morphing to concern.

 

“Is that an issue?”

 

“No, she stammered out, unconvincing even to her own ears. “I was just curious.”

 

Killian rose from his seat, walking closer to her, almost predatorially.

 

“You know, Swan, for a woman who claims that she can sense lies in other people, you have a lot of work to do on your own poker face.”

 

“I’m not lying.”

 

He scoffed. “Swan, don’t mistake me for an idiot.”

 

She could feel her panic rising, her walls trying to build themselves, but she was too tired to fight. Too tired to deflect. Too tired to think of a better lie. He must have taken pity on her though. It was unnerving how easily he could read her when she herself often struggled to see beyond the facade he displayed.

 

“You needn’t worry yourself. Our destination is actual the neighboring kingdom.”

 

He’d said it was such vile. Looking back at the map, she saw that the map did indeed cover Glowerhaven as well as her home. There was even a small hole that she’d been too worried to notice before. At second glance though, it hadn’t escaped her that the hole lining up with the coastline was the same size as his hook.

 

“What’s in Glowerhaven?”

 

“There’s a small port town where we can dock for a few days to repair the ship.”

 

She could sense it in his voice. Not quite a lie, but an omission, just as before.

 

“But what’s _in_ Glowerhaven?”

 

His jaw clenched as she saw it. A crack in his armor.

 

“Nothing that you need to be concerned with.”

 

Emma thought back to everything her parents had ever told her about Glowerhaven. She knew that the ruling queen had once been a mermaid, a well-guarded secret, and that the king commanded one of the largest navies in all of the realms. Beyond that though, she knew very little, certainly not enough to explain his own resistance to going there.

 

“Are you concerned for King Eric’s naval fleet?”

 

“Hardly,” he’d barked out, turning to move back to his chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

 

“No.”

 

That had him stopping in his tracks, clearly not used to people on his ship defying him. She took a deep breath.

 

“He wasn’t lying.”

 

Killian’s head tilted, she could see the question on his lips, but she continued anyway.

 

“August. He wasn’t lying when he said that I was wanted for murder.” Tears pricked her eyes at the memory of Graham falling to the ground. “It was an accident, but it was still my fault, and now there’s a price on me and I can’t go home.”

 

“Swan, if it was an accident it hardly constitutes as _murder_.”

 

From anyone else she would have thought him questioning her, questioning if it had truly been an accident, but with Killian, it was in defense of her honor.

 

“It doesn’t matter. He was a good man and he died at my hands. I deserved my punishment.”

 

His head tilted as he tried to read her.

 

“And your family? Did they believe you capable of murder as well?”

 

Once again, he’d seen straight through her.

 

“I have no family, not anymore.” Her voice caught, but she needed him to understand. “Killian, I know what it feels like to be alone and afraid. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, I won’t judge you for it. I won’t think less of you.”

 

She hoped that by giving him a piece of herself that he’d be willing to reciprocate. She still couldn’t understand it, but she felt compelled by him. Compelled to know him, to understand him.

 

He looked down, a brokenness to the way his head hung low as he glanced at his hook.

 

“It’s the place where I lost my hand.”

 

It wasn’t what she had expected.

 

“The drawing you found, it was of my Milah. When we met she was married.” He paused, a storm brewing over his features. “Her husband was a cowardly man, the village joke. He was a fool who didn’t deserve her, and when she and I ran away together, neither of us ever expected to see him again. Hell, I didn’t even expect him to still be alive anymore given how easily frightened he was by his own shadow.”

 

Emma was silent as she listened. She’d had her own past memories to reconcile.

 

“But somewhere along the way, he’d become a monster known as the Dark One, and sought us both out, taking my hand in vengeance for taking his wife.”

 

There had been no mention of Neal in the story, and she wondered if Milah had ever even spoken of her son to Killian. If he knew the story of what happened.

 

“And you’re afraid he’ll be there again?”

 

“No,” he spat. “It’s just not an encounter I wish to remember.”

 

She could understand. She’d seen people who had been badly injured. Only the truly desperate souls ever sought her out, but they were often in immense pain, willing for death.  Images of Killian laying in a bed riddled with fever as he fought for his life flashed through her mind and she had to push down the nausea she felt knowing how much he must have suffered. The idea of anything happening to him made her stomach twist and her brain was forced to wonder when she had started to care about him as anything more than a means to an end.

 

_The waves continued to roll, her fingers clamped onto the balustrade, and dread seized her entire being. Her heart screamed for her to jump, to save Killian, but her body refused. Her fear for Killian only intensified, knowing he was trapped somewhere below the surface, knowing that if she didn’t do something soon he’d surely die. She was rooted to her spot though, so engulfed in sheer terror that she’d become paralyzed._

 

_And then a miracle had happened. He’d emerged, held in the arms of a woman. Her confusion was drowned out by the relief she’d felt at seeing him alive. She hadn’t questioned it, and when the woman called out for the rope, when she’d realized that she wouldn’t have to jump into the water, she’d finally been able to move again. She stepped back over the rail and tied the free end of the rope off into a circle, letting it wrap around the rail as a pulley just as she’d seen some of the men do when hoisting heavy items around._

 

_She’d pulled has hard a she could, her feet tucked firmly in place. He was heavier than she’d expected, but she’d refused to give up. When she finally pulled him up close enough to grab, she wrapped her hands around his lapels and tugged with all of her might, pulling him back onto the ship, knocking them both over in the process._

 

_The way he’d looked at her as they laid there, she felt a charge between them, that same force that had been tugging at them each, stronger than ever, but the ship lurched and whatever moment they been having had passed._

 

“I’m sorry. I can only imagine what it must have been like.”

 

“I don’t need your pity.”

 

“And you’ll not get it.” She said firmly with a smirk on her lips.

 

The shock in his face had been evident, but she continued on, hoping to change to mood that had settled over them.

 

“In fact, I was rather on the fence as to whether I should jump in after you earlier.”

 

“You despise me so much that you’d let me drown?”

 

She laughed a little, stunning him back into silence.

 

“Hardly. I just- I never learned how to swim. I wasn’t sure that I’d even have been all that much use, that I wouldn’t have made it worse,” she shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were nothing. As if she hadn’t been completely petrified in that moment.

 

Having spent the entirety of her childhood locked away in secret had prevented Emma from ever encountering anything deeper than her bathwater. She’d never learned to swim, something that seemed so innate in other people her age.

 

He laughed at the ridiculousness of her statement, the brooding from only moments earlier having been abandoned.

 

“And here I was thinking that you’d been my savior.”

 

_Killian had returned to the rail, screaming at the woman who’d saved him, and that’s when she saw it. The tail. He’d been saved by a mermaid._

 

_Emma had read of mermaids briefly as a child, but ever only in passing. Her parent’s library had an extensive collection on nautical knowledge, but for the most part the books consisted of the history of sailing and terminology. Very few of them even so much as mentioned sea creatures. What little she’d come to know was how much sailors feared the unknown._

 

“To be fair, I had good intentions. You’re just lucky that mermaid came and saved us both.”

 

Whatever lightheartedness has settled over them was gone in an instant.

 

“Luck had nothing to do with it. Mermaids are vile creatures and you can be sure she wanted something in return.”

 

The contempt in his voice made her blanch.

 

Her only other experience with sailors had been when she left Misthaven. Stowed away on the boat, only emerging at night to steal food from the galley, she’d heard stories. The nighttime crew liked to boast of their exploits to pass the time. She’d immediately known the bulk of their tales to be nothing but lies, but the venom behind their words had been true. They’d talked of killing krakens for sport, harpooning killer whales, anything to prove their fearlessness.

 

“Surely you can’t believe all mermaids to be evil?”

 

He balked.

 

“Don’t be so daft.”

 

Given his volatile reaction to the woman that had saved his life, she wondered what he would do if he learned of who she truly was.

 

_Swan? What did you do?_

 

She’d been a fool to open up to him at all, to think that he mattered in some way. That he was different in some way. Everyone Emma had ever been close to her had hurt her. Feared her. Killian was no exception.

 

Needing to create distance between them, she excused herself, and as she left, he made no motion to stop her.

 

* * *

 

 

Emma was exhausted. It took a week of them ‘limping in’ as Scourie had put it before they were able to dock at Glowerhaven. She hadn’t spoken to Killian since he’d almost drowned. It wasn’t completely one sided though. They’d both been avoiding each other equally.

 

She’d felt a shift that night, a shift in the power they held over each other. Neither of them willing to concede that they other held any sway, so they both kept to themselves. It bothered her, knowing that he _meant_ something, but not understanding why. Graham had meant something, but he’d been her friend first, her only friend. Neal had made her promises that she could have only dreamed of. Killian though, aside from the limited moments of genuineness, had been nothing but cold to her.

 

When the doctor had summoned her that morning telling her that he’d found a large herbal shop that seemed promising, Emma had jumped at the chance to get off the ship and further away from Killian, who would surely be overseeing the repairs for the entirety of the day.

 

The shop in question had been much more authentic than the apothecary. The ingredients where of high quality and it was clear that the shop own took a great amount of pride in her work and her shop.

 

She’d shown Scourie as many different plants as possible and he’d been diligent about taking notes in a journal, even going to far as to sketch out the differences in leaves for future reference. It felt odd, teaching someone her craft. Most healers held it as a widely garnered secret, and Emma hadn’t been blind to the curious look the shop owner had given her as she showed Scourie around.

 

Mullins had been forced to stay behind to work on the ship. As Glowerhaven was known for it’s peacefulness, his services as a protector weren’t needed. He’d looked a little stricken at the idea of missing out, but she had promised to show him everything she and Scourie had purchased. He’d oddly enough been the one to approach her, asking her random questions about healing while they were sailing, and she’d been more than happy to share her knowledge with the two men, especially after Mullins had explained the reason for his own interest.

 

Killian.

 

Mullin’s had been there when Killian’s hand had been cut off. He’d stood by helplessly as Killian’s blood spilled out and watched as he’d writhed in pain. It was the first time he’d ever come upon a problem that couldn’t have been solved by force, and he wanted to make sure that he knew what to do if something like that had ever happened again. It wasn’t a thought that Emma wished to dwell on.

 

When she and Scourie emerged from the shop, it was still early in the afternoon. The doctor had been more than eager to return to the ship to begin making salves just as Emma had shown him, but she wasn’t quite ready to return to the ship yet. Not when it meant passing up a wonderful day in favor of the brig or medical quarters so she could continue to hide away.

 

Instead, Scourie returned to the Jolly alone while Emma continued to peruse the shops in town.  When she’d left Misthaven, she’d been so focused on just surviving and not getting caught that she hadn’t had time to just take in life, to feel what it was like to be a regular person.

 

The village in the Northern Isle where she had lived had sold only the most basic of amenities, but in Glowerhaven, people thrived and subsequently many of the shops were specialized. There were shops that sold soaps and candles, ones that sold just jewelry, but the one that surprised her most was the one that sold only chocolate with dozens of variations on candy treats. She found the curiosities shops to be mesmerizing as well. She’d spent hours just browsing alone the main street, and before she knew it, the sun was beginning to lower and she knew it was time to return to the ship.

 

She took her time though, letting herself linger among the people. Although she hadn’t interacted with any of them beyond a cordial head bow here or a smile there, it was nice not to worry about her every move. Not having to worry if she was bothering the crew. Not needing to avoid anyone. Even when she was with Neal, she’d always been looking over her shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

She watched as children played together in a courtyard while their mothers stood nearby gossiping. There were men escorting women along the streets, minding the carriages that passed by. It was all so normal, something she’d craved as a child.

 

Taking one last deep breath, savoring the scent of the local bakery, she turned to make her way back to the dock, but stopped short when she collided with a small body, a young boy who looked to be just shy of ten years old. His hair was black as night, his skin slightly pinked from the warmth of the day.

 

“My apologies,” he’d been quick to say.

 

“Nonsense. I believe it was I who ran into you.”

 

Emma lent the boy her hand to offer him assistance in righting himself from the ground. She watched as he dusted off his pants and coat. He’d been nicely dressed, clearly the child of one of the wealthier nobles in the area.

 

“No, I wasn’t watching were I was going. I dropped my ball and was chasing after it.”

 

Emma looked down to her feet and notice a small brown leather ball, similar to one some of the other children had been playing with, but one of much higher quality.

 

“Well then, I suppose we have a choice to make. We are either _both_ to blame, or _neither_ to blame.”

 

She quirked an eyebrow at him, an unintentional habit she’d picked up from her limited interactions with Killian. The boy smiled conspiratorially at her.

 

“Neither then.”

 

She match his wide grin and held her hand out once more.

 

“My name is Emma.”

 

The little boy took it easily, grasping it firmly.

 

“Leo.”

 

For just a second, her heart jolted at the memory of her own family. Remembering the painting of her grandfather that hung in the hallway near her room. She’d never met the man, but by all accounts he’d been a kind ruler before marrying the Evil Queen. Granny had been the only one old enough that Emma was allowed to converse with, aside from her mother, that remembered King Leopold. She’d told Emma stories of how he’d been the King of the people, learning mundane skills in order to better understand his subjects.

 

“That’s a lovely name. You know, my own grandfather’s name was Leopold.”

 

“Really?” The boys face lit up in enthusiasm. “That was my grandfather’s name as well.”

 

A part of Emma was puzzled. In most kingdoms, certain names were held strictly for Royals. From her own readings, there had been a declaration, that once a child was born to the royal family, there was a naming ceremony, at which time the name of the newest heir was announced. After that, the name was no longer to be used outside of the royal family as a sign of respect. Ruby had told her that there were no other Snows in the kingdom, no other Avas, no other Leopolds. Just has there wouldn’t have been any more Emmas if her very existence hadn’t been a secret. But she reminded herself that she wasn’t in Misthaven, and the rules of Glowerhaven didn’t necessarily apply.

 

“Are you hungry? My parents and I were about to retire for supper, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you joined us.”

 

Emma smiled at him again, at his kindness and pure heart.

 

“I doubt that your mother would approve of you bringing a complete stranger home without her permiss-”

 

She was cut off by a frantic voice calling out for the young man in front of her.

 

“Leopold! You know better than to run off like that. Your father has half of the guards out looking for you right now!”

 

Emma froze hearing the voice once more. Her words caught as she took in the raven hair, a bit more grey than it had once been, a few more wrinkles gracing her eyes, but beyond that, her face was unmistakable.

 

“I’m sorry mum. I lost my ball and was chasing after it.”

 

“Son, you must think before you act. I was worried sick that something had happened to you.”

 

“I really am sorry, but look, I made a new friend.”

 

Leo’s mother had straightened up at the realization that they’d had an audience.

 

“I’m sorry. Where are my manners? My name is Snow. I hope Leo here hasn’t caused you any trouble.”

 

Her heart ached, a deep penetrating wound at the realization that her own mother hadn’t recognized her.

 

“No, no,” she stuttered out, unable to say anything more.

 

“This is Emma. I’ve invited her to dinner. Is that alright mother?”

 

Emma watched as Snow’s face contorted. Confusion turned to shock.

 

“Oh sweetheart. I’m sure Emma has other plans, and we mustn’t keep Eric and Ariel waiting on us any longer.”

 

The hole in her heart tore, almost beyond repair at the dismissal. At the comprehension that she was nothing to the woman anymore. It gave way to anger as she stood there, paralyzed. Anger gave way to rage as Snow grabbed Leo’s hand and tried to pull him away without so much as a goodbye.

 

She felt her magic calling out, begging to be unleashed, a small part of her wanting to give into to it. To release it and finally earn the judgement she’d received. To pull her mother’s heart out of her chest and see if was as iced over as she’d imagined it was.

 

“Snow, there you are!”

 

His face had relaxed immediately upon finding his wife and son.

 

“Swan?”

 

Emma turned to find Killian approaching her and the dam burst. All of the pent up emotions that she had been pushing down for the past ten years came flooding to the surface, and with it, her control over her magic began slipping away.

 

“Is everything alright here?”

 

Emma looked at his blurry form and then back to her parents, with their new happy family.

 

“Come on Leo. We’re due at the castle.”

 

Her father had been just as clueless, barely even acknowledging her presence as he checked the boy over.

 

Leo, for his part, gave her a look of apology, not understanding exactly what was happening.

 

It was too much, being so close to them and yet so separate. She turned and ran, ignoring Killian’s cries for her to stop, completely shattered.

 


	15. 14

 

The woods in Glowerhaven were a maze. He traipsed through them calling Emma’s name, but he knew it was futile. She didn’t want to be found, and calling for her was useless.  But something in her had called out to him. Something more than whatever the connection they shared was. He’d seen the pain in her eyes.

 

He’d been heading in to the local tavern to grab a bite to eat and some rum when he’d initially seen her, and he’d immediately recognized the royal family of Misthaven. While he’d never seen them in person, everyone in all of the realms had heard of Snow White, princess turned bandit. Her skin was white as snow, lips as red as blood.

 

Snow White was famous by her own right, but she and her husband had become legends when they fought off the Evil Queen to reclaim the throne.  They’d been heralded as the perfect royalty. Even if he hadn’t recognized the queen by sight, it would have been impossible not to catch sight of their emblem, a buttercup flower that had become a symbol of hope and peace among realms.

 

Emma had stood frozen in her spot, and he felt his own breath catch, deciding if he should intervene or not. On the off chance that the royalty hadn’t realized who Emma was, he didn’t want to tip them off, but he also didn’t want to be too far away if Emma needed him.

 

He’d called her name, and when she turned to face him, her eyes had been clouded over in darkness. The lines of her face sharpened. He’d never seen her in such a state, even when she’d slapped him she’d remained in control of her composure. And then he’d felt it, a strange tingling sensation. Static filled the air around him and the hair of his arms began to rise. Emma hands began to shake, and before he could say anything more, she was gone.

 

Nearly had hour had passed, and he’d been no closer to finder her. Initially he’d been inclined to go back to the Jolly, to look in the brig where she’d fled to many times before, but his gut screamed at him, telling him to move into the woods.

 

He’d smelled the smoke permeating the air, heard the crackles of burning wood, felt the radiating heat long before he’d laid eyes on the charred remains of what used to have been a thicket of trees.

 

Black as far as the eye could see.

 

From what he could tell, the damage had taken a circular pattern. Cautious not to trip on any of the seared tree stumps, compulsion forced him further towards the center of the scorched earth.

 

She’d been quite, stoic, but defeated. Her body slumped in on itself, her spirit broken. His heart hurt for her, for whatever had caused her such pain. The royals clearly hadn’t seen her as a threat as they made no move to have her arrested. Killian wondered if it was just the stress of the situation, but when he stepped on the remains of a twig and her head as snapped up, and her eyes were filled with anguish.

 

“No! Stay away.”

 

“Swan.”

 

“I- I can’t. I can’t control it.”

 

As she said the words she broke.

 

He didn’t hesitate to go to her, to wrap his arms around her, crouched at her side. All thoughts of how’d they’d been avoiding each other long forgotten from his mind. What ever had happened had been more than just worry. She’d been pushed too far, and as she settled her head on his chest, she let go. The only sounds around them were her sobs and is soft whispers of comfort.

 

He’d held her until darkness set in, neither of them saying words. He’d wanted to ask about woods, about the death that stretched out around her, but words failed him. He inherently knew though. It had been magic, and although it had only raised more questions in his mind, yet still,  for the first time in years he’d felt safe cocooned there with her.

 

Night was falling though and he worried that if it got much darker, they’d never be able to navigate their way back out. She must have sensed the same as she slowly stood and let him guide her. They walked hand in hand, quietly together, and even when they finally reached the road, they left their fingers intertwined, her head resting on his shoulder.

 

She didn’t hesitate when he pulled her towards his own quarters, dodging the troubled looks of his crewmen. Had he not been so concerned for her, he might have wondered when exactly his men had found themselves taking in interest in her welfare.

 

He’d offered her dinner, but she’d refused, saying nothing more than that she’d had no appetite. Killian didn’t push her the way he would have normally knowing that she was still feeling raw. And when she put up no protest as he tucked her into his bed to rest as he checked on the ship, he knew just how fragile she was.

 

The crew had questions, but he had no answers, and it frustrated him to feel so helpless so instead he barked out orders and chastised the men for their shoddy work. When he’d finally returned to his quarters, he’d been weary to the bone. The exertion from working in the sun and the emotional strain of the day had finally taken their toll.

 

Grabbing the extra pillow from the bed, after tossing his coat and vest aside, he set it down on the floor and settled in for a long night of sleeping on the hardwood floor of his cabin. Less than five minutes later though he found himself searching through one of his chests as quietly as possible. While he wasn’t completely averse to sleeping in his leather pants when necessary, after a long day he needed the comfort of the cooler air on his legs. With Emma less than ten foot away though, he’d ruled out sleeping nude as a sign of respect.

 

After finally finding a pair of linen trousers, he’d settled back on the floor, letting the fatigue take over. He’d almost been asleep when he was startled awake by cries. What began as a muffled whimpers soon rose to screaming.

 

He stood quickly to find Emma thrashing around on the bed. He’d called out her name, but it hadn’t helped as she continued tossing and turning.  The candle in his room, blown out before, flickered to life. He looked around seeing the lamp against the wall light up as well as Emma’s breathing picked up. It wasn’t until he saw her hands light up, sparks flying out from them and he realized she was the source.

 

_Please. Neal. Stop!_

 

Without thinking, he grabbed her face in both of his hands, holding her gently but firmly as he said her name with more force. She’d gasped awake, in a state of pure panic, pulling back from him, skittering to the far side of the bed against the wall.

 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re alright, Swan.”

 

It took a few minutes for her to calm down enough to recognize her surroundings. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for her breathing to return to normal.

 

“Killian?”

 

“Yes, Love. You’re safe here.”

 

He could still see the fright in her eyes, but when he moved closer, she didn’t shrink away and he took it as a good sign.

 

“I- I was having a nightmare.”

 

She sounded so small.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

She’d opened up to him before, but each piece of herself that she’d given him had been immediately followed by distrust and nine foot walls.

 

She didn’t say anything though and he refused to push it. He’d had his own nightmares about Liam and talking about them was somewhere akin to having to relive them each time. It was torture and he wouldn’t put Emma though such a thing.

 

“Will you just lay with me?”

 

She sounded so delicate, and he couldn’t refuse her. Stepping off the bed just long enough to grab his pillow, he joined her, settling as close to the edge as possible, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. She settled on a spot closer to the wall, still within reach of him, and though he’d have been loathed to admit it to himself, he hated the distance. He wanted to reach out and grab her hand.

 

He wasn’t certain how long had passed, but neither of them managed to fall asleep. He listened to her, waiting to see if her breathing evened out, but it had remained steady.

 

“What was your family like?”

 

He tensed as the question. It wasn’t something he talked about, with anyone. Not even Milah.

 

“There’s not much to say. They’re all gone now.”

 

“And your brother?”

 

“How-“

 

“I found one of his journals on your shelf.”

 

“Ah, yes. My brother passed as well, years ago.”

 

It hurt to think of that moment, of Liam slipping away in that very room.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

She was silent again for awhile and he thought that had been the end of it.

 

“He seemed like a good man. You have his eyes.”

 

Killian’s head instinctively turned to the spot where Liam’s portrait hung, repositioned on the wall after his tantrum. He supposed that even thought Liam had been stoic during the commission, there was still a kindness to him.

 

“Aye, he was the best man I’ve ever known.”

 

“I have a brother too. He’s very sweet.”

 

Killian thought over what she had just said. The week before she’d told him that her family was gone and he hadn’t sensed her to be lying.

 

“Swan, what happened today?”

 

“They replaced me.”

 

There was a tremble to her voice.

 

Nothing she’d said had made sense to him. He replayed what little he’d known about her. She was originally from Misthaven where she was wanted for murder. The fake wanted poster he’d shown her had been enough to scare her into leaving her home, implying that murder wasn’t her only crime. Her family was gone. He couldn’t reconcile any of it. He tried thinking back on earlier in the day. When George had returned to the ship he’d been in a fine mood and hadn’t indicated that anything had been wrong, so whatever had upset Emma happened after they’d separated. She’d been a mess when he saw her with the royal family. The queen, the king, and their young prince.

 

Something clicked in the back of his head. Her reaction had been more than just a stress response. That’s when it hit him. The way Emma spoke, the way she held herself, her posture. The fact that she was literate. The expensive necklace. The way she’d spoken of Liam as she's known him somwhow. A cryptic journal entry after Liam’s final trip to Misthaven.

 

_Ornate wooden carvings, golden fixtures, stained windows. It wouldn’t be any different in the end. A gilded cage is still a cage, Killian._

 

He should have seen it before. The eyes, the chin. Aside from her flaxen hair, she was the spitting image of Snow White.

 

“They’re your parents aren’t they? The King and Queen?”

 

Her face turned to look at him, her cheeks tear stained.

 

“They were, once upon a time. I’m nothing to them now.”

 

“Because of your magic?”

 

He himself had been guilty of writing off magic as nothing but dark and sinister. Emma’s magic was different though, he could feel it in his bones.

 

She sniffled and nodded her head. He listened as she told him about growing up in the castle, about how she remained hidden there out of sight of everyone. She told him about meeting a man named Graham, and how she’d killed him on the night of their wedding. About how the king and queen had disowned and banished her from the kingdom.

 

They’d sent her away like a common criminal and Killian felt all of his muscle tense at the anger he felt on her behalf. Anger at the way they made her feel like a monster, anger at not having acknowledged her. Anger knowing how much she hurt seeing them parade her brother around in front of everyone when she’d been a secret, locked away and isolated.

 

He’d shifted closer to her as she spoke, unaware of just how close he’d gotten until he felt her tears on his chest.

 

“You’re not a monster.”

 

“I wish I could believe that.”

 

“You said you couldn’t control it earlier. Has that ever happened before?”

 

“Just once.”

 

She was quiet once more, but that time he knew it wasn’t because she was done talking. She was preparing herself for something more.

 

“His name was Neal. I’d been on my own for a year and as hard as it had been staying hidden away in the castle, it was nothing compared to that year. I had no money, no friends, no idea of how the world worked. I was just trying to survive anyway I could. I stole from him, picked his pocket.”

 

A sad laugh followed.

 

“I wasn’t very good though and he caught me. I thought for sure he was going to turn me into to the sheriff, but instead he took me under his wing. I was so desperate for companionship that I clung to him for dear life. He promised me adventure, but more than that, he promised me family.”

 

“He found out about my magic though, and overnight he’d changed. He became distant and scared of me. I thought he just needed time to get used to it, that he loved me and that love would win out.”

 

He already knew that the story had a sad ending, but he couldn’t have imagined just how awful it had been for her.

 

“He’d asked me to meet him in the woods to talk, but when I arrive I realized too late that it was a trap. He had a magic bean, and he tried to push me through a portal. My magic took over somehow and he ended up going through instead.”

 

Killian shifted so that he was on his side, facing her. She tilted her head away, but he took her by the chin, lightly lifting her face so that she was forced to look at him; to see the sincerity in his eyes.

 

“He was a fool. Emma. I can feel the goodness inside of you.”

 

“Everyone I’ve ever been in love with is dead. I-”

 

The tears began welling in her eyes again, and it hurt him seeing her in so much pain. He just wanted to make it better. To heal the broken pieces of her heart. To see her happy.

 

So he kissed her, softly, gently. He didn’t want to pressure her, to make her uncomfortable, but she didn’t push him away. Eventually, her lips gave way and she allowed his tongue to caress hers.

 

When he pulled back to look at her, there was a blush on her cheeks and she seemed almost shy.  He brushed the hair from her face.

 

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep now.”

 

She nodded and laid back down, setting her cheek on his shoulder. It didn’t take long before her breathing lightened and he could tell she was finally slumbering. He on the other hand had felt wide-awake. Her kiss had awoken something in him, a hope and longing, but with it came a stabbing pang of guilt.

 

Guilt for the deception. Guilt for the damned agreement he’d made with Regina. But mostly guilt for enjoying the feeling of Emma’s lips against his while Milah slumbered under a curse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a break from writing fanfiction to work on my book, but I have more chapters finished for this so I'll keep slowly adding them...

**Author's Note:**

> If you're on the fence about the whole mythology thing, I can tell you that this is nothing like 5B. We'll get some hunts of the mythology throughout, but the focus of this story is really Captain Swan in Enchanted Forest.
> 
> As always, feel free to come yell at me on tumblr: Wellhellotragic.


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